And Somewhere a Window Opens xxx PART THREE
by StephalewANDhugh
Summary: STORY TO BE CONTINUED FURTHER! This is part three of the Trilogy xxx highly recommend reading other 2 xxx Lots of babies, fun and a medical mystery xxx House also confronts his father xxx Debra confronts her parents xxx House and Cam Wilson and OC
1. Chapter 1

_This is the last of the Trilogy and I strongly recommend reading the first two parts: first, "When One Door Opens" which introduces Debra, House's cousin; and second, "Another Door Closes." If you don't, you will be lost with who's who and who's married to whom and who had who's baby. :o)_

_I have worked on this all day today, thinking I wouldn't have anything for a few weeks. Well, I lied! wink_

_Admittedly this chapter WILL be confusing at first but the explanation will soon be revealed so just keep reading, and reread if you need to. lol _

_Again, thanks for all the previous reviews and I hope you enjoy this one._

_Remember, PLEASE don't throw red and white BIG tennis balls at me:o) Steph_

**Chapter One**

Daddy sat in his kitchen, sitting on the small table and had just brought the green-pea mush-laced spoon of baby food to the baby's lips and he eagerly opened his mouth. The spoon tilted and as the food spilled into Junior's mouth his lips puckered, his head shook and he smacked his lips.

"I know it's nasty, buddy," Daddy said lovingly as he puckered his face at the baby. "You'll like the peach mush better, I promise." His voice rose and lowered in tone as he made a funny face and Junior giggled.

"Hurry up! They're going to be here any minute!" he called out to the empty room.

"Alright! Alright! I'm just starting to dry my hair! Shouldn't you take the beef nibblets out of the oven?" she screamed from the bathroom as the dryer started to hum.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Daddy looked at the baby and smiled. "Your Mommy can be sooo bossy, can't she?" Again, Junior cooed.

Daddy quickly stood, took the pan out of the oven and set it on the stove top then returned to finish feeding the baby. Just as he gave Junior the last of the peach mush he promised, Mommy walked into the kitchen and stood in the doorway waiting for her family's approval.

Daddy looked up at her and smiled then looked at Junior. "Wow, doesn't your mommy look s_exy_?"

Junior looked at his mother and waved his arms in the air as if he were tickled pink he'd finished his whole lunch, not that his Mommy was sexy. Daddy wiped Junior's face clean, pulled back the high chair, loosened the tray and picked him up. He walked to his wife, pausing just a foot away and gave her a warm kiss. He proceeded into the baby-toy infested living room and put Junior in the playpen, grabbing his favorite toy and handed it to him.

When Daddy stood up and turned around, his wife stood watching them with a contended smile on her face. She took a few steps to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and said, "See! I told you you'd be a good father."

Just then the doorbell rang and they broke their embrace.

"Cousin Greg and Allison are here, Gregory!" Debra said elated.

She bounced to the door and enthusiastically swung the door open and for a split second was a little disappointed it wasn't them but a smile swiftly crossed her lips and she welcomed her guests into the apartment.

"Eric, Wendy, Bobby!" she said gleefully as she gave them quick hugs then closed the door. She noticed the smirk on Chase's face and teased, saying, "I know you don't like that. But when you are here, you're Bobby; House rules."

"You're not a House anymore," Foreman defended his coworker.

"I know, whatever," Debra laughed. "Come in. Jim just fed Gregory so he should be ready for his…"

She wasn't able to retain the attention of her visitors as the two men walked to the playpen, shook hands with Wilson and talked with the baby. Debra looked at Wilson and they smiled happily at each other, as proud parents should.

Chase picked up Gregory, played with his fingers and said, "You've gotten so big! I can't believe you are just six months old!"

"Yeah, you'll be up and walking around and knocking things off tables and…" Foreman stated to say but Wilson cut him off.

"Bite your tongue! Our son will be perfect."

"Hey, can I get you guys something to drink?" Debra offered as their guests sat down.

Chase beamed as he talked and bounced Gregory on his knee. Chase had grown very attached to Gregory, even though they only got a chance to see him in their office when Debra brought him by when she and House went to lunch.

A few minutes later she brought out two bottles of beer and a coke for Wilson. The four adults sat on the couch waiting for the others to arrive as they talked about what the baby had been up to lately.

_SIX MONTHS EARLIER…_

"What is it?! What it is?! How is it, what is it?" Debra asked urgently as Dr. Truong said the baby was out and they were just clearing its nose and throat of the amniotic fluid. Wilson was with her the whole time, holding her hand and giving her his support. They both smiled, cried and kissed the other when they heard the baby cry out with strong lungs. House slightly moved the top of the mask he wore to wipe the tear that had fallen out and used it to dry it. _Heaven forbid Debra and Wilson see me cry._

But it was too late; Debra had turned to look at him and saw him wipe the tear and saw his tear-soaked eyes. She smiled at him sweetly and he winked back at her.

Dr. Truong held the baby and was about to lift it over the curtain to show her when the anesthesiologist cried out that her blood pressure was falling and she needed to get it back up. Dr. Truong quickly handed the baby to a nurse and stepped back so the nurse could further ascertain her condition. House took a step toward the table but then stopped.

"Jimmmm, wha' izzz…" Debra closed her eyes and rapidly fell unconscious.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

After ten agonizing minutes, Dr Truong was able to find the bleed, cauterized it and relaxed before continuing to finish what he'd started. Both House and Wilson were holding their breath until they heard the anesthesiologist say her vitals had stabilized; they simply forgot to breath. House looked up at the observation lounge when he saw movement and saw Cuddy and Cameron looking down on them, both wearing relieving smiles.

_Several hours later…_

Soft moaning reverberated from the hospital bed and Wilson lifted his head from his crossed arms beside his wife. Her head was slowly moving away from him then came back, still moaning and licked her lips from her cotton-dry mouth. Remnants of a dried tear streaked from the inside of her eye to the crook of her nose.

"Debra, Deb…" Wilson whispered as he brushed her hair away from her cheek.

"Jjj…wha…" she mumbled as she tried to open her eyes but couldn't; they felt glued shut.

"You're fine, baby. The baby's fine."

"Nnnn, yeah…but I…" she continued to whimper as she forced herself to wake up fully. She didn't understand what had happened to her and why she was still…alive.

"Deb, get some sleep; just relax."

"Jjjj…I died…no sleep…wha'…" she whispered, still confused.

Wilson cringed when he heard her say she had died and it killed him. Wilson had prepared himself as to what he was going to tell her but wanted her more aware of her surroundings so she could take it all in.

"No, honey. I'll explain later…rest now."

"Nooo, tell m' wha' happen'd," she insisted.

Wilson buried his face in her neck and rested his head against her shoulder for a brief moment before he raised his head and looked into her eyes, running his thumb over her cheek. He felt it was okay to give her a shortened version at the moment just to calm her down. He told her what happened right as the doctor was going to show her the baby and she fell unconscious.

"Bu'…no…" she mumbled as she finally forced her eyes open and looked at Wilson for the first time. "I mean, I had the baby and saw him and we named him but my heart couldn't take it and I died…" She had to stop to catch her breath because she was starting to overexert herself.

Wilson leaned in and placed her head in the palm of his hand and rubbed his cheek against hers. He knew she wouldn't let it go and had to tell her more than he wanted to.

"No, baby. Your heart did stop beating from the sudden loss of blood but they brought you back after half a minute."

Debra couldn't retain all the information Wilson was telling her because her death was so real to her, so _frightening_ real to her. She looked at him, a tear falling from the corner of her eye down to her ear, and said, "But the baby is okay?"

Wilson let out a sigh of relief and said, "Yes, he's beautiful; Gregory Evan is healthy. And _you're_ beautiful."

Her face beamed when he told her he named him Gregory. She had never mentioned that name but he knew how important House was to her and he knew it was something she'd want. He hated the fact that the baby's initials were GEW, which is basically pronounced the same as his own initials: JEW.

Debra weakly smiled, closed her eyes and said, "No, no. He was supposed to be named after you, Gregory James. But, I like it. Can Greg still be his Godfather?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. You think it's a good idea?" he asked seriously but then laughed.

"Yes, I think it's a g_reat _idea."

They held each other for several minutes before Debra grew drowsy. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, baby."

By early the next morning, Debra was awake and able to sit up in the bed with just minimal pain. She smiled when she saw Wilson sleeping in the empty bed beside her; he wanted to be near her for when she woke up again. Of course when he woke up she would insist, which Wilson would crumble to her pleas to tell her more of what happened, which he did.

But before then, she lay awake trying to piece together the dream, hallucination – whatever it was. It just didn't make sense to her. But it finally dawned on her: her fear of dying, or the baby dying, had indeed penetrated her psyche when she lost consciousness, or during the time she was clinically dead.

But there was one question remaining: Did House _really_ tell her Cameron was pregnant and she would indeed be bringing Gregory a cousin to play with?

_BACK IN DEBRA AND WILSON'S APARTMENT…_

The doorbell rang again and Debra was in the middle of telling Foreman and Chase the story when Gregory first peed on his father and Wilson eagerly stood and headed for the door.

"Saved by the bell!" he said as he opened the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Okay, I'm going to have the next chapter fun before we get into the essence of what the show is about: medical mystery…don't worry. I'm still eventually covering all the other issues that need to be dealt with.**_

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Dr. Cuddy! You couldn't have come at a better time!" Wilson exclaimed as the door opened wide for her to come in, giving her a peck on the cheek as he took her light sweater.

"Oh, really? Is Debra telling the boys when Gregory first peed on you?" she said as she laughed as Wilson's cheeks blushed a bit.

"Lisa! Come in!" Debra gushed as she stood to meet her boss. "And yes, they thought it was hysterical. You don't know how ready I am to come back to work for you!" she said as she hugged Cuddy and led her to a chair in the living room.

"Hey! I think you forgot to close the door! You could get your stereo stolen!" House hollered as he walked through the door and a very pregnant Cameron followed behind him. "I need a replacement anyway."

"Allison, Greg! I can't believe you're on time!" she teased as she raced to her cousin, gave him a hug, which made House crinkle his nose in embarrassment then gave Cameron a far-away-too-huge-tummy hug. Cameron was now seven months' pregnant, and it definitely showed, but she beamed.

"House! If you hadn't left your door open so Hector could sneak out you wouldn't have had it stolen," Wilson said playfully.

"I did NOT!" House insisted as he and Cameron walked in and sat around the others.

Cameron sat next to Chase, who was still holding Gregory, and started to play with him. House sat across from them and rolled his eyes.

"Liar," Wilson said under his breath.

"Am not," House whispered back like an eight year old.

"Are too!" Wilson answered; his voice a little higher. Wilson seemed to digress in his age since the baby came, and Debra thought it was endearing, but not from House; he was like a child _all_ the time.

"Jim, don't start," Debra warned with a laugh. "Hannah should be here any minute and we can leave."

"Good," House grumbled.

"Debra, I really like how you decorated your new apartment," Cuddy said, breaking the close-to-being-rude comments she knew House could come up with.

"Thanks. I'm still moving things around but I think Jim and I are happy with it. It's much bigger than our first two bedroom apartment we were renting. We're both happy we got a three bedroom, not that we'll be needing it for another nursery." She turned her attention to Cameron. "Allison, is the baby kicking yet?"

"Oh, yeah! Last week, act…" Cameron answered but House intervened.

"Oh, please! No pregnant women talk! Let's talk about…sports!"

"Oh, chill, Greg. You know I _hate_ sports," Cameron interjected. She rarely called House by his first name, but whenever she did he knew she meant business. She'd punched him playfully in the stomach more than once, and the first bruise she'd given him proved she could take him.

From the look on her cousin's face Debra knew House was serious and figured it was a good time to show the ladies the rest of the apartment and talk about pregnant women things.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang and Wilson hollered for the ladies to come on because Hannah had arrived and they could finally leave. Aside from finishing the plate of beef nibblets Debra made earlier, the conversation in the room was virtually non-existent among the men, except for the googly noises Chase was making with the baby and House was relieved she was finally there.

House eyed Hannah up and down sizing her up as she entered the living room. She was a senior at Princeton and Cuddy recommended her to them, as she babysat for several other doctors at PPTH because her father was a benefactor to the hospital. She was a tiny girl, just 5'2", about 110 lbs., green eyes, strawberry-blonde hair and a great smile but she looked a little pale to House.

Her face was not where House's eyes were glued to when the ladies walked back into the room; he was looking at her well-endowed chest. Debra took Hannah into the kitchen holding Gregory so she could go over the necessary instructions every mother leaves for the babysitter.

Cameron walked up to House with a loving smile on her face, leaned into him seemingly to give him a kiss when she suddenly punched him hard in the stomach.

"Ow! Damnit, woman!" House fussed as he rubbed his stomach.

"Oh, shut up. Mine are growing and they _better_ be the only ones you stare at!" Cameron said then kissed him lightly on the cheek.

About fifteen minutes later they headed out to the Faire. Everyone but Foreman and Wendy were in the rented mini-van Cuddy got for them; they had to leave earlier than the others because they had to leave for a party at her sisters.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

"Arrggh, maties! This loverly lassie is mi-ine, ARGH!" the pirate said as he grabbed Cameron gently by the waist and took a few steps away from the group.

They had just walked through the arch of the village of the New Jersey Renaissance Faire. And indeed, it was as if they stepped back in time. There were several small, wooden buildings with stores selling wares from ancient swords, flowered head bands with long, colorful ribbons, crystals of multiple shapes, and much more. The ground was thick with cedar wood chips, adding a rustic aroma to the area; the sweet scent of sugar-coated popcorn filled the air, along with roasted chicken, making them all hungry. The wind from the early autumn blew leaves high above them, also filling their ears with a calm expectancy. Several female visitors wore dresses showing thin waists and plenty of bulging bosoms, of which House's mouth had to be forcefully closed by Debra's fist.

"You take her, mate! This lovely bouquet of buh-yoot-in-us is mine!" another man said in a heavy English accent after his partner stole Cameron. He'd grabbed Debra and the four scurried off.

"Master! Save me from this rogue!" Debra screamed for Wilson in an excellent rendition of a cockney accent.

Wilson started to take a step toward them but House stopped him by placing his hand on his shoulder.

"My adored King! Rescue your Queen and your unborn offspring!" Cameron cried, failing miserably with her attempt at the accent, which sent the two girls in fits of giggles.

"Just like _you_ not to come to your lover's rescue, House!" Cuddy teased as she, too, laughed.

"You'll have to pay handsomely for them, my friends! Two cows and "veg-eh-tabels" will be acceptable!" House called out, shaking his cane in their direction and speaking in a rather proper and formal Oxford-ish coated accent.

Several minutes later the group was seated at a long bench eating lunch. Debra had the brochure in her hands looking over the shows and Celtic musical groups to figure out their schedule of which events to go to.

"House, give me your leg!" Cameron asked hungrily.

"No! You've already had a Chili bread bowl, a pretzel and your own leg. And you are sleeping at your own place tonight after the chili!"

"But, I'm still hungry and besides, I'm pregnant," she whined, only playing with House; she was actually full and on the verge of being nauseous from eating too much.

"Okay," Debra interrupted. "They're having the live Human Chess game at three; the rousting contest at 3:30 and…"

Suddenly her cell phone rang and she answered it, panicked at first because it was her own home number.

"Hannah, what is it?" she asked, looking at Wilson with fear in her eyes.

She listened to Hannah and her face softened when she said, "Oh, it's no problem. They're on the bottom shelf in the hall closet. No, don't worry. I'm glad you called. Have fun."

After Foreman and Wendy left an hour earlier, the remaining group watched as many of the shows as they could and had a great time. Thirty minutes before they were planning to leave they sat to relax and listened to the group "The Mistrels."

Cameron and House were sitting close to the other, his arm resting comfortably around her waist with his palm on the back of the bench; her head was resting on his shoulder rather cozily. Wilson and Debra were sitting across from the other, but their eye contact and facial expression was enough for everyone to know how much in love they were in. Even under the table they had their feet entwined, occasionally she'd slip her big toe up his pant leg with a wicked grin on her face.

When they were finally on the road back to Wilson and Debra's apartment for a drink to warm them up before they departed for the night, everyone was settled beside their perspective lover, well, except Cuddy and Chase, who was already asleep in the passenger seat, his head nestled in his right arm resting against the window.

House and Cameron were in the back seat, Cameron lying on her side, her head on House's left thigh, her hand on her belly and House's arm draped over her. Her eyes were closed and she'd just fallen asleep, while House's head kept nodding back then jerking forward, fighting off sleep. He loved quiet times like that between the two, even though he'd never admit to it; but Cameron always knew. The silence was beginning to be too much for him so to stay awake, so House counted loudly the total amount of exposed bosoms he'd seen through the day.

Both Wilson and Debra were still awake, seated in the middle two bucket seats and looked at the scenery. She decided it would be a good idea to call Hannah to let her know they would be home in fifteen to twenty minutes. She hit 'send' on the cell phone and listened to it ring repeatedly, anxiously waiting for Hannah to pick up. Debra was growing more and more anxious when she suddenly barked at House to shut up, which woke Cameron up.

Wilson looked at her alarmed because she never used that tone with House, unless he deserved it; that particular time, it didn't call for it. "Debra, what is it?" Wilson asked troubled.

"She's not answering." She hit 'hang up' and redialed; still no answer. "Lisa, hurry up! Something's wrong!" Debra said; her voice shaky.

"Honey, I'm sure there's nothing to…"

"Lisa, please! Hurry!"

After Cuddy stopped the van in front of their apartment building and before she could even set the van in 'park,' Wilson and House were out of the van and raced to the apartment, Wilson digging in his pocket for the front door key. Wilson was so worried he had trouble fitting the key into the hole, constantly hollering for Hannah as House stood behind him. The key finally went in, he turned it and pushed the door open and House almost ran Wilson over as they rushed inside. House rushed down the hall to Gregory's bedroom while Wilson went to check out the living room.

"Hannah, Hann…" Wilson said, stopping when he saw her passed out on the floor by the couch. "House, she's in here!" he hollered just as the other four gradually entered the apartment.

"Oh, Hannah," Debra said as she rushed to her side. "Chase, call 911!...Gre…Gregory!" she said in fear as she raced down the hallway to Gregory's bedroom.

House met her at Gregory's door just as he closed it behind him. "Shhh…don't worry. He's asleep. If you wake him he'll start crying then you'll have to feed him then change his diaper and you _know_ how nasty that could be…"

Debra wasn't listening as she raced back to the living room to see how Hannah was. Chase and Cuddy were at her side assessing her condition when sirens grew ever so louder as they approached.


	3. Chapter 3

**_I forgot to give a shout out to ColorOfAngels for the title!!!! Think my blood pressure dropped 100 points. :o) Ok, so I'm exaggerating-that spelled right? lol_**

**_The end of this chapter ends hot and heavy, and I'm afraid I was forced to cross the line a little bit. For those that don't want to spoil a 'good' story, email me with your email address and I'll send you the continuation of it. _**

**CHAPTER THREE **

Hours later, House and Wilson were in the diagnostics office discussing Hannah's condition; Chase and Foreman were in the lab waiting for results of her blood work. Wilson didn't have to be there, but he felt he should be since Hannah had babysat for them several times; she was a trusted and caring person, and they knew she genuinely loved Gregory.

Of course, House grumbled that he had to go into work at that late hour on a Saturday but after Wilson called her parents and found a few things that intrigued him, he succumbed and they settled in for a long night ahead of them.

Cameron stayed with Debra because she didn't want to leave her alone, not after finding her babysitter out cold in their living room; besides, House's car was at the apartment and they left in such a hurry to PPTH they didn't think about any other arrangements.

On the white board, House had written, "24yr old, 2 seizures w/in past three weeks, abnormal finger length all 10 digits, degen. mental state"

The two men sat at the table mentally going through every possibility they could think of, to no avail.

"The times she's come over to babysit, neither of us noticed any difference in her, at all. Her parents said she'd been to a doctor because the past year her head appeared to enlarge and her mental capacities seemed to be deteriorating but they didn't find anything. She's barely passing her classes," Wilson added, completely puzzled.

"Well, studying at Princeton will make any head grow," House muttered.

"House! For _once_ can you be serious?" Wilson barked. "Look, it's late and we're both tired…"

Just then, Foreman and Chase came into the room looking frustrated and threw themselves into chairs; Chase handed the page with the blood results to House. He didn't bother reading it.

"What's the verdict?" House asked as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms, trying to prevent a yawn.

"Nothing. Her CBC is completely normal," Chase said.

"Is she conscious?" Wilson asked.

"No. Her parents are in with her, though," Foreman added.

Foreman and Chase threw out a couple of possibilities, which sent them back to Hannah's room to get a lumbar puncture. House looked at his watch –it read 1:15am – so he and Wilson headed back to Wilson's apartment. They didn't say much on the drive because they were so tired.

When they entered the apartment, they found a note on the dining room table that the girls had gone to bed and there was leftover lasagna in the oven they simply had to reheat. The two men looked at each other with eyes bugged out; they hadn't eaten since lunch hours earlier and they were famished. Wilson asked House to heat up two portions while he went to check on the girls.

He found his wife and Cameron asleep on their bed, fully dressed, with Gregory cuddled between them. He smiled and turned to leave when he heard Debra whisper his name. He turned back around and gave her a wink.

"Hey, babe. How's Hannah?" she asked concerned.

He whispered, "Sleeping, but we're still running tests."

"Okay. Are you two going to eat?" Wilson nodded his head. "Okay," she said as she got off the bed as gently as she could as to not wake Cameron or the baby. "I'll put Gregory to bed and get Cameron up. She and House are sleeping in the guest room."

She gently picked up the baby and walked to Wilson, giving him a kiss as she passed him. "Mom left a message while we were out," she said softly. Wilson nodded his head but didn't say anything as she left the room for Gregory's.

After the two men finished eating Debra took their plates, rinsed them and put them in the sink. Cameron groggily walked in, walked to House and gave him a peck on the cheek. House padded her swollen tummy lovingly.

"I think you should have had spaghetti, honey," he teased, referring to the scene in Alien when the creature tore out of the stomach of the man after he'd eaten spaghetti. Cameron didn't ask about Hannah because Debra already told her right after she woke her up.

"Debra, have you got those extra pillows? I need something under my knees," Cameron asked.

House looked at her confused. "Oh, you and Cameron are staying here," Wilson told him.

"No, no way. We can go home," House argued.

"No, you won't. You have had a long day and…" Debra argued back.

"I have to feed Steve."

"He'll live," Debra told her cousin.

"Cameron can drive us home…"

"Oh, please, House. You know the seat doesn't push back far enough to clear this huge stomach of mine," Cameron said as she put her hand on her lower back and bent backward.

"Don't argue with a pregnant woman, House," Wilson injected. "You'll lose every time."

After House and Cameron settled into the spare bedroom, Debra and Wilson changed into their night clothes then sat up in bed silent in the darkness. He was worried over Hannah and Debra was worried over her mother's phone call.

"What did your mom say?" Wilson finally asked.

"She wants us to come up."

"Did you call her back?" he asked as he yawned and lay down on the bed, his head underneath his hands.

Debra lied down next to him and put her arm over his chest, holding him tightly, burying her head under his arm. "No. I don't want to go."

"Fine, we won't go."

There was silence between them for several minutes when Wilson thought Debra dozed off.

"She said she can explain why they've been out of my life for over a year."

Wilson tilted his head toward her and kissed her on the forehead. "We'll go when you're ready, not before."

He felt her chest heave as if she was going to cry, but in reality she had just taken a deep breath of relief.

"Have I told you how much I love you, lately?" she asked softly, her eyes closed.

"Nope. But I love you just as much."

Over in the spare bedroom, House was begging Cameron for a little loving before he could go to sleep but she refused.

"No! God, Greg, I'm seven months pregnant and about to pop, you pervert. Besides, you'll give him brain damage," she said seriously, hiding a smile in the dark.

"How am I going to give it…oh, yeah," he sniggered. "I'll be gentle," he pleaded.

"Go to sleep."

"But you were frisky last month and we were humping like rabbits!" he whined.

"I was also twenty pounds lighter and two dress sizes smaller and it was just my hormones."

"But you're still sexy to me, baby."

"Nite, House."

"Fine, but the next time you beg me you ain't getting' any," he pouted.

"Nite, House," she repeated. "I love you," she said, not that she was serious. She just said it hoping it would make him shut up.

"Uh-huh. You won't say that when…"

"Oh, for pete's sake! Baby!"

**_xxx EMAIL ME FOR THIS PART!!!! xxx_**

She giggled to herself as she moved herself up and lay her head on the pillow beside House, who had his face turned towards her and smiling in the most satisfied grin she'd ever seen him wear.

"You know what you said earlier about…you know…" he said, his voice deep and raspy.

She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. "Dude, I just made you 'you know.' What else do you want…"

"No, about – what you told me."

"House, I'm too tired to play games right now. Would you just come out and say it?"

"Think about it while you go to sleep. What you told me…I'm saying it back." He rolled on his side and got in the fetal position and tried to fall asleep.

She sat there searching her brains trying to remember what he told her that he's saying back.

When she remembered what she'd said, she smiled, closed her eyes and shivered, but not from the cold. She said she loved him, but she wasn't serious. Now he was saying it back; well, not exactly, but it was good enough for her.

Cameron rolled on her side, put the pillow between her knees, which cradled right into the back of House's knees, put her right arm over his waist and her left arm over his head. She nestled her nose in the nape of his neck and she swore she felt goose bumps form there.

With his left hand he reached up and held her right hand, getting a hard grip and ran his thumb over the base of her own thumb.

And the two were asleep in seconds, blissfully.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions. I can see from the reviews I'm on the right track, although I don't know which direction I'm going. :o) This is going to be very emotional, I think, so PLEASE let me know if I get off tract or out of character throughout the story.**_

**CHAPTER FOUR **

Only a few hours later, Gregory was kneeling on the bed beside his sleeping Godfather and at first didn't know what to do. His mother, Debra, was standing by the bed in easy reach of the baby in case he lost his balance and fell off the bed. Cameron, who was awake and watching them, smiled evily.

Then, out of the blue, Gregory's hand went up and came smack down right below House's cheek, making a high pitched cracking noise as his little palm met the flesh. Gregory seemed shocked at first, but then giggled. He brought his hand up to his face and looked at his palm trying to figure out why it felt so prickly.

"Ow..hey…wha'" he muttered, still half asleep, but managed to reach up and touch his face to see what hit him. His eyes flew open and his head came off the pillow, facing the culprit head on.

The swift movement of the mattress almost caused Gregory to fall sideways, but Debra put out her arms, which wasn't necessary because House lifted his hand that was right behind him and supported his lower back to prevent him from falling. Cameron and Debra snickered heartedly. When House saw Gregory he smiled but didn't say anything then threw his head back down on the pillow.

"Sorry about that, cuz. Jim's making pancakes and you have about three minutes to wake up, down your vicodin and get in the kitchen," Debra ordered.

"Hmm, yum," Cameron said, smacking her lips. Gregory copied her and giggled; Cameron clapped her hands which sent Gregory into his own fit of applause.

House made a silly face at the baby then said, "This is worse than when Hector woke me up slobbering all over my face because he had to be let out for a wiz."

"Well, if I'd known you didn't like that I wouldn't have done it all those times," Cameron teased as she grumblingly sat up and smacked his arm.

Debra picked up the baby and left, leaving House and Cameron alone.

"Ugghh, I don't wanna get up. It's Sunday," he griped, pressing his face in his hand, causing snorting noises to emit from his nose and mouth.

Cameron slowly stood and walked around the bed, stopping beside him. "Oh, stop whining and get up. You've got to go in and check on Hannah."

"That's why I have you guys."

"Gee, thanks."

"Come on, guys! The macadamia pancakes are done and they can't be reheated!" Wilson yelled from the kitchen.

"Hot damn!" House said excitedly as he shot out of bed and ran off to the bathroom.

After Cameron and House changed they headed off to the kitchen for breakfast. Gregory was sitting in his highchair smashing a bit of pancake into his mouth and sucked on it to soften it up; of course, his daddy made his without the nuts.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD 

"Hi, Hannah. How are you feeling?" Wilson asked as he walked to the end of her bed. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lemming."

He and House had been at PPTH since around noon and while Wilson was checking on Hannah's condition House was in the diagnostics room with Chase and Foreman discussing the additional tests House ordered earlier that morning.

"I' tired and I ha' a hed'ache an'…"

Wilson was instantly alarmed at her slurred speech and walked to the side of the bed, pulled his pen light out of his pocket and asked Hannah to follow the light after he checked the reaction of her pupils. He pressed his middle finger on the gland in her neck to check if there was any swelling; there was none. She just happened to swallow and pain crossed her face.

"Hannah, do that again," Wilson asked as he kept his middle finger and thumb around the front of her neck. She tried, but the pain was too strong and she had to stop, telling Wilson she couldn't swallow.

"Okay. I'm going to meet with other doctors to discuss your case. I'll be back shortly," Wilson said as he affectionately touched her down-turned hand.

Hannah gurgled from the back of her throat and sat up, vomiting in between her bent knees. Wilson calmly walked to the nurse's assistance button, pressed it and returned to Hannah.

"Dr. Wilson, do you know what's wrong with our daughter?" Mrs. Lemming asked nervously as she rubbed her daughter's back as the vomiting tapered off.

"No, not yet. But you have the best doctors working on it and we'll know soon," he said with a smile, seemingly to him to be very forced.

When Wilson walked into the diagnostics room he headed straight for the white board and added two more symptoms to the previous ones while House watched him curiously.

'24yr old, 2 seizures w-in past three weeks, abnormal finger length all 10 digits, degen. mental state, _difficulty swallowing, vomiting.' _He turned and faced the group.

"What did the LP show, Dr. Foreman?"

"Hey, I get to ask the questions," House whined. "So, tell us – what did the LP show, Foreman?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at Wilson.

Foreman waited to make sure they were done with their childish game and said, "The LP showed nothing but we did more blood work; her B12 is almost triple the normal count and with her added symptoms…"

Wilson added 'ataxia' to the list then looked at Foreman and Chase and asked if they checked her for leukemia; Wilson had a hunch but wasn't quite sure yet. Chase looked over the chart to confirm they hadn't.

"Okay, can you get on checking for leukodysis and get…and recheck…" Wilson rattled off other tests and the two men left obediently.

Wilson sat down heavily in the chair, put his elbow on the desk and buried his forehead in his palm. House stood, went into his office, grabbed a bottle of Scotch out of his secret drawer and returned to the think tank. He walked to the counter where the coffee pot was, opened the top cabinet drawer, withdrew two glasses and walked to the table. He opened the bottle, poured two shots and slid a glass to Wilson, who hadn't looked up during the whole time House was wandering around.

"Drink," House ordered, taking a swig from his own glass.

Wilson didn't move so House sat down across from his best friend, scrutinizing him.

"You don't think it's Leukemia, do you?"

A moment of silence lasted between them before Wilson popped his head up, resting his chin in his palm, looked at House, looked at the glass, slowly reached for it and finished the liquor in one swallow.

"Way to go, Jimmy!"

"No, I don't think it's Leukemia; she shouldn't be vomiting."

" Wilson, what's going on between you and Debra?" House asked Wilson, putting off the subject as long as he could.

"Huh, nothing, why?"

"I've just noticed you two seem to be a little distant lately," House noted.

"No, no, not at all. It's just…I don't feel comfortable talking to you about it…she's your cousin."

"Right, yeah, I know that, but… Wilson, I'm happy for you, really, and Deb, too. But, I just…miss you," he said quite embarrassed.

"Ah, you love me?! I feel so honored!" Wilson teased. "Seriously, you should talk to her."

A few hours later House sat in his office checking medical Web sites while Wilson returned to his own office. He was worried about Hannah but House had pointed out that he was worrying too much over her. But, Wilson would expect that of House, being that he never seemed to look at a patient as a person but more of a 'being' that needed to be fixed – like a stereo that suddenly lost the sound and House just _had_ to get his nose inside the guts of the electronic machine to fix it.

Shortly thereafter Chase walked into Wilson's office looking forlorn. "She had another seizure. What do we do now?"

Wilson shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He stood and walked out onto the balcony without saying a word, leaving Chase to excuse himself. Wilson had always been able to handle any tough situation, but two at the same time was just too much for him. Things hadn't been going well for him and Debra, not that they were on the verge of breaking up, but since Gregory came along their sex life had been virtually extinct. They were still very much in love, and they'd fall asleep in each other's arms, but he missed being with her, missed making love to her.

And with the current situation with her parents, he knew she'd have to deal with that eventually, and he didn't know how she would take that.

He'd thought things would get back to some kind of normalcy once Debra returned to work, but until they figured out what was wrong with Hannah, they'd have to search for another babysitter. The simple act of finding a qualified sitter would take a bit more than a month, at their calculation.

House noticed the glass by his office and the balcony shake and looked out towards Wilson's door. House pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tight from the strain of looking at the small print for so long. He stood and walked out to meet his best friend.

House noticed Chase just walked out of Wilson's office and asked, "Where's Foreman?"

"Chase said earlier he was angry he had to work so early this morning and after he left said he wouldn't be back until 9am tomorrow." 

"Figures."

"House, there is something bothering me."


	5. Chapter 5

_Ok, this is a cute chapter that ends harshly…but I must forewarn you awesome readers...because it seems the LITTLEST things tend to set people off and I don't want to do that._

_House 'pushes—more like kinda 'hits' Gregory; but more like just 'pushes' BUT HE ISN'T HURT!!! OK! _

_lol sorry, I just had to say that. Another site is HARSH with their offendedness-ness!!!_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

House turned to face Wilson and waited for him to tell him what was going on with him and Debra. After a few moments of silence, Wilson sighed heavily and turned to look at House.

"Has she…do you know if she...gets high?"

House furled his eyebrows because he assumed Debra had quit smoking pot during her pregnancy and even after she'd given birth; he definitely knew she had quit smoking cigarettes. House told him she had gotten high before, when he was in Michigan then relayed his thoughts to his best friend, asking why he wanted to know.

Wilson hesitated a second before he said, "Because she's doing it again."

"How do you know? Are you sure it's pot and not…"

"Oh, no. It's pot. I picked up on it about a month ago. She'd gone to the grocery store and when she came back I smelled it in her hair and clothes…I've smelled it twice since then."

"Was the baby with her?!" he asked, very alarmed.

"No, no. Gregory was with me; I never smelled it on her before then and I don't think she'd ever get high when he was around her. I didn't say anything but I know I should have. But you're right; we have been a little distant with each other lately. We haven't made love since the baby came." Wilson turned and stared out over the balcony at the grounds of PPTH.

"First of all, it's having _sex – _there's no such thing as _making love_…" House started to say.

"No, House. For _you_ it's having sex…oh, I don't want to get into this right now."

House looked at him very concerned and asked, "Do you want me to talk to her? Is that why you said I should talk to her?"

Wilson was torn: he didn't want House to talk to her because he didn't want to know why she felt the need to escape by smoking pot. He was afraid it was him; after all, Debra _was _his fourth wife. Two more wives and he'd be the American version of King Henry the Eighth, except he didn't have anyone beheaded.

"Could you? I mean, would you? And be a little tactful at it?"

"Oh, please! Tact is my middle name!" House said jokingly, which actually got a little smile from Wilson. "Hey, not a problem."

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

"Honey, can you get that?" Debra hollered out from Gregory's bedroom. She was in the middle of changing his diaper and getting his pj's on for the night.

Wilson walked to the door and let House in.

"Hey, what's for dinner?" he asked as he limped into the living room and stood beside the couch, leaning against the arm and twirling his cane.

"I don't know, House. It depends on what you order on the menu," Wilson answered as he closed the door and walked towards House and said quietly, "Okay, you know what to say, what not to say, and how to say it, right?"

Before House invited just Debra to dinner that Sunday night, he and Wilson discussed what House had planned on saying, which did little to comfort Wilson with his concerns.

"Yes, sir, Master James. I am your humble servant for the evening and you can do with me what you…"

"Hey, Greg!" Debra stopped suddenly and frowned as she walked into the room with Gregory in her arms and caught the last few words of the conversation. "Uh, honey? If you and Greg want to be alone, I can take the baby out…" she said seriously but a corner of her lip rose slightly in a smile.

"No…no…no…" Wilson stuttered as House said, "Wilson, we're busted!"

She laughed with Wilson and House smiled as Debra handed Gregory to his daddy and told House she was ready to leave. As Wilson was just shutting the door behind the cousins, he mouthed to House, 'tact!'

Debra talked about looking for a nanny on the drive to the restaurant. House told her they had a day care center at the hospital and she should check it out. She said she might inquire about it because she really needed to get out of the house as soon as she could; being cooped up at home after six months raising a child had finally started to take its toll on her and she needed a change.

Debra turned her body to lean against the door, faced House and asked, "So, what did I do to bestow the honor of your presence two days in a row?"

House looked at her and grinned; he loved her sense of humor. She was a lot like him in that department – she had a very quick, dry wit but on the flip side could cut down the strongest of men with just one word and a glance.

"Nothing, really. Wilson just gave me $80 to take you out and I didn't argue with him."

She tilted her head up then looked back out the window. "I don't believe you," she said softly.

"Well, it's true," House answered.

"No, it's not. What's the _real_ reason you're taking me out?"

"I ain't tellin' til I get a couple of bites of food in me."

"Fine, whatever."

"You know, I _hate _that word," House complained.

Debra knew he hated the word 'whatever,' and that's why she used it so much with him. But she _was _worried about what he wanted from her. She thought it might be about Gregory, though she couldn't think of one good reason as to why it would involve him; he was as healthy as a horse.

Then she worried maybe it was Wilson, which she was sure it was. She, too, knew they'd been less active in bed, and she missed him, dearly. At first she was angry at Wilson for getting House to talk to her about it, but then she knew he was right. She never really thought about why she hadn't given herself to him since Gregory, but she decided she'd put an end to that later that night.

But, then she thought maybe it might have been House. Since Debra had Gregory, House and Cameron had been by the apartment more often than in the past and saw the baby every couple of weeks, whether he'd come over or she brought him to the hospital. She knew he wasn't intentionally being an absent Godfather or distant to the baby, but maybe he wanted become elusive again. All she knew was that he definitely liked the little tyke. But that still didn't hold a grain of salt as to what he wanted.

But still, he'd rarely pay attention to Gregory when they were at the hospital, he'd say a few words or noises or make funny faces to get his attention when they were at their apartment, but when he was alone with Gregory, that was a completely different story.

_In Scene…_

One day when Gregory was just four months old, Debra and Wilson needed to run errands so (for the very first time) they asked House to babysit Gregory. They mocked and ignored his cries of twenty million excuses why he just _couldn't _do it, but then he relented. Hours later, they came home earlier than expected and when Wilson opened the apartment door, shocked at what he was seeing, stopped Debra from entering. They listened to musical notes for a brief second then he slowly continued to open it, being careful not to make any noise to warn House they were there and they crept into the room.

There on the living room rug, sitting on a light blue blanket (the blanket House had chosen to give to Debra and Wilson as a baby shower gift – but actually Cameron picked it out), were House and Gregory. House set a couch cushion vertically against the front of the couch and another cushion to the baby's right, horizontally, and pressed against him to prevent him from falling over on his side; this allowed Gregory to be in a sitting position. House was on the baby's left, leaning against the same cushion, his back to the door.

Nothing unusual about that, but on Gregory's lap was a small child's piano. House had taken Gregory's hand, positioned his fist for just the forefinger to a point, and would hit a key here then hit a key there, all the while saying the key of the note they'd just heard. Gregory just cackled at hearing the notes, and House would cackle right back, imitating him then laugh himself.

…_Out of Scene_

"We're here, come on," House said but Debra was so wrapped up in her thoughts she was oblivious to where she was and who she was with.

"Debra!" House said, louder and sharper. He'd already opened his door, got out and stood, bent over, peering into the car. "DEB…" he repeated and that snapped her out of her daydream.

She got out and met him on the other side of the car.

"Where in the hell were you? You zoned out."

"Oh, sorry," she answered as they walked to the restaurant entrance. "I was thinking of when you watched Gregory and we snuck up on you."

_In Scene, cont'd…_

"Do you take special requests?" Wilson had asked; his voice soft and low but loud enough for House to hear.

That was enough to scare the 'livin' bajeezus' out of House. He literally jumped about six inches off the floor, his shoulders shot up around his neck and his right arm jerked outward, accidentally pushing Gregory against the pillow to his right, which made him softly bounce off and ended up on his back, looking up frightened to death at his parents, his lower lip quivering. It happened in a split second that by the time House could react and reach out for Gregory he was already balling his head off.

…_Out of Scene_

"This way, please," said the hostess at the Cha'teau LaReif, a French restaurant he'd wanted to try. Ok, it wasn't him, it was Debra, but luckily House was smart enough to grab a Big Mac meal before he picked her up. After they sat at the table by the window looking over Lake Cherokee, they ordered drinks and the hostess walked away.

"I thought I damaged the kid for life," House said then laughed, but when the implications of what he actually said sunk in, he quickly dropped the smile on his face and looked down at his plate then pulled the napkin onto his lap.

Debra didn't miss his reaction, not one bit. She reached across the table and tapped his hand twice before she pulled it away. "Greg, do you remember the _only _one that could get him to fall asleep that night?"

House uncomfortably shifted in his chair and avoided eye contact with her.

"_You_ were," she said with a warm smile on her face.

The waiter then came by with their drinks, talked of the specials and said he'd return shortly to take their order. House grabbed his drink, downed it all in one swift movement and set it back down on the table. His face contorted with the warmth of the liquor moving down his throat and esophagus, he smacked his lips then sat back, his right eye narrowed.

"When did you start getting high again?" House blurted out.

Of course, just as Wilson made him _swear _not to do, he'd said it with as much 'tact' as he could.


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, here's some more…thanks for the reviews. :o)_

**CHAPTER SIX**

Debra quickly shook her head, her eyebrows rose and her eyes flew open in shock. "What are you talking about? I'm not high. God, talk about changing the subject!"

"A little birdie told me they _smelled_ it on you," House said slyly.

Debra sat back in the chair and threw the napkin from her lap onto the table in disgust. She was livid; House thought she put on a very dramatic performance.

"Hmm, I guess since Gregory can't talk yet it was _James_?" she asked, her voice dry and unemotional.

"Uh-huh."

The waiter came back to take their order, but when House nodded to Debra to tell him what she wanted, she shook her head, said she lost her appetite and stormed off to the bathroom.

House smiled, rolled her eyes at the waiter and said, "She wanted a Big Mac. What can ya' do?"

The waiter looked at him confused and told him he'd come back with another drink and to take their order. A few minutes later Debra's cell phone rang in her purse on the back of the chair. House was curious who it was so he stuck out his cane, hook end out, reached for the strap and expertly pulled the purse toward him. He reached in, grabbed her cell and flipped it open in the middle of its last ring; He saw it was Wilson's number. House never said hello but tapped the water glass with the fork (to be sure Wilson knew someone had actually picked up) then put it up to his ear.

"Hey, Deb, how's dinner going?"

"Oh!" House said; his voice as high pitched as he could make it without cracking his vocal chords. "Just great! I'm having 'the letter racing car food.'"

"House! There is something _seriously_ wrong with you! Where's Debra?" Wilson asked. "Wait...what the hell is 'the letter racing car food?" He shouldn't have, but he asked anyway.

"You know, honey!" House replied, his voice still high like a 'woman' and talking a bit louder. "The escargot!"

"House, shut up and let me talk to my wife!" Wilson snapped as the waiter brought House's second drink and he immediately took a sip.

"Sorry, you can't."

"And why not?" Wilson demanded.

"Uh, because she's in the bathroom," House told him.

"Oh," Wilson answered with a heavy sigh. Why didn't you just say…oh, don't answer that. I think I can guess…"

"Is that Jim?" Debra asked as she looked down at House angrily with her arms crossed over her chest. She'd snuck up on him and had been listening to part of the conversation.

House didn't say anything but quietly handed her the phone, the expression on his face like that of a child that'd been caught hiding brussel sprouts under his plate at the dinner table.

"Hey…" Debra said as she walked away after she grabbed her sweater, but not her purse.

That told House she'd be back so he sat, popped two vicodin, nursed his drink and watched what the others were eating around him. He was about to ask the man at the table next to them what type of dish he was eating when he noticed movement out the window and turned to look. On the shore of the lake, a short distance from the back of the restaurant, Debra had taken a seat on the bench right under the lone spot light, her back to him.

From the gestures she made with her head and free hand House couldn't tell if they were fighting or simply discussing what he'd brazenly and coldly brought up. He could have handled it better – he knew that, more so for Wilson than Debra. But he had never been that kind of person, and he never would be. 'Cut to the chase!' That had been his motto for the longest time.

Debra talked to Wilson for a few more minutes before House saw her take the phone away from her ear and sat motionless for a few minutes. She bent over and hugged her stomach, her arms around her knees.

House was disappointed he couldn't see her face. Something rumbled in his stomach and at first he thought it was because he was still hungry, but he wasn't. If his stomach was his heart, it would have broken by then.

He downed the last of his drink, grabbed an unused thick paper napkins and her purse, dropped a $20 on the table and walked out, around to the back of the restaurant and down the path to the bench where Debra was. By the time he got to her, his leg was screaming at him from the strain caused by the unevenness of the gravel, but he knew it wouldn't last too much longer.

He heard a sniffle from her. He waited a second, took a deep breath and walked in front of her, sitting down to her left. He put his chin on the back of his hand that held the hook of the cane and looked out over the water. Shortly after that he felt Debra shiver beside him and he stood, took off his jacket and handed it to her. She didn't take it. She didn't say anything. She just…sat there and stared at the lake, with an occasional sniff.

"Debra, take it," House pleaded.

"I…don' wan' i'"

"Stubborn woman!" House tiffed.

Even though she had her sweater on, he opened the jacket and threw it over her shoulders then sat back down.

"Jerk," she whispered.

"You're welcome."

House and Debra sat for almost five minutes not saying a word. House couldn't take it any longer.

"You know he loves you, don't you?" House hesitated a moment. "I've been a little mad with you at times."

At that she turned to look at him for the first time. "Uh, first – I know he does; and second - why?"

"Because, since you two married and Gregory came along, Wilson and I haven't been hanging out as much as we used to."

"What? I've seen you and Cameron _more_ since Gregory. I've liked it." With that the lightest of smile came to her lips. "Or are you talking about you and him going to stripper clubs?" Her smile grew wider.

He grinned and nudged her left shoulder.

"Greg, I love him, too. Truly, I've never been happier. And Gregory – Jim couldn't have given me a better gift than that little monkey."

"Actually, I think he looks more like an orangutan."

Debra laughed and a muffled choke came from the back of her throat, as if she were laugh-crying then she snorted.

"Oh, lovely." House handed her the napkin and she took it right away, wiped her nose and dried the single tear with her fingertips.

"I've only gotten high like, four or five times. I was just having bad days."

"We all have bad days, Deb. That's no excuse."

"I know, I know. You've seen Ghost, haven't you?"

House frowned then his face lit up. "Oh, yeah, with Demi-Goddess Moore."

"Right. You know how Sam was afraid that anytime something good was going on in his life, he was waiting for it to all go to crap. That's how I feel with Jim. We don't fight, we have little arguments but we work them out, we laugh. Everything is perfect…I'm just…afraid…"

"Don't be. I've never known you to be insecure…you're a strong person…better than me." He shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her.

"I'm cuter, not better," Debra smiled then grew forlorn. "Greg, can I ask you something?"

"No."

"Jim told me you were clinically dead when you went into cardiac arrest. Did you want to come back?"

House was a little surprised; no, he was flabbergasted. "Wha'? What kind of question is that?"

Debra put her leg under her knee and turned to look at him closely. She explained what she'd experienced after she gave birth to Gregory – about her dying. "It just felt so…_real_. The funny thing was I remember how I felt right before I died." She hooked two fingers on both hands as quotes around the word, 'died.'

"It was nothing I'd ever felt before, even after a joint. I was numb, but it was refreshing, I guess; I can't think of a better word. It was like I was floating and I literally had no fears, worries, nothing. I think that's what I was looking for when I got high. But it freaked me out."

"How so?"

Debra sighed heavily before she said, "I'm afraid it'll happen again. I don't want to go."

"Oh, Deb." House reached out his hand and lightly rubbed her shoulder. "All we can do is live for today. You don't know what'll happen tomorrow. But don't lose what you have now."

Debra looked into his eyes deeply. She was looking to see if what he'd just said had registered in his own brain. She could only hope he did. She felt tears build up in her eyes again and she didn't want to cry anymore. She had a husband and child to go home to.

She stood up, took off House's jacket and handed it to him, then stretched out her hand for House to help him up. "Come on. Let's go home."


	7. Chapter 7

_OKAY! AS YOU WISH! HERE'S SOME MORE HOUSE AND CAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Oh, and yes, some people DO get offended over stupid stuff; jus thought I'd cover my pa-tooty. :o)_

_Oh, and if I didn't email the part of Chapter 3 that you requested, let me know. I'm blonde._

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"The night nurse said Hannah's lost strength in her legs; she can't even stand on her own," Chase replied.

House had just walked into the diagnostics room to get coffee the following Monday morning. He was curious what had happened between the two but already had it on his mental schedule to check into.

House turned around from filling his cup and brought it up to his mouth then horror crossed his face when he took a sip. "Holy crap! When was this made, last year? Where's Cameron? She should be back from the lab by now."

"She had a doctor's appointment," Foreman answered. "Wilson wanted us to check the leukodysis level on Hannah but that's within range. So, it's definitely not leukemia. It could still be something related…"

Foreman's words dissipated as he watched House walk out of the conference room and hurry down the hall. House had completely forgotten about Cameron's first sonogram appointment, even though she'd reminded him before she went to the lab that morning; he'd been picking her up at her place since her swollen tummy prevented her from driving comfortably. They were still up in arms about whether they wanted to know the sex or not.

As House pushed the door in to the exam room where Cameron was lying on an exam table, her belly exposed and a 'mouse' on the side, he rushed to her side, not looking at the monitor showing the picture of the baby.

"Sorry, had a patient asking a qa-zillion questions…"

"Uh-huh. House, we're having twins," Cameron said seriously as his eyebrows flew up and he looked at Dr. Crooks with frightful trepidation on his face before he glanced back at Cameron.

A smile crossed Cameron's lips and she laughed, hitting House on his right arm. "Ow! St…" he cried out.

"You deserve that for being late! Well?" she asked nervously as she flashed her eyes at the monitor.

House hid as best as he could a deep breath and finally looked at the monitor. It was a plain black and white screen, clearly showing the outline of the baby in the center.

"This is the head," Dr. Crooks said as he pointed to a small 'blur' on the monitor. "These are the arms and…"

"Yes! It's a BOY!" House screamed out excitedly.

"No, Dr. House, that's the leg," the doctor said, smiling at Cameron who just shook her head.

He hit the 'print' button on the monitor and took the 'mouse' off of her belly, handing House several Kleenex to wipe off the jelly on her stomach, which he did, very awkwardly. He was afraid of putting too much pressure on her stomach, when in reality he had nothing to worry about, and only ended up smearing it around more.

"Well, do you two want to know the sex of the baby?" he asked as he handed Cameron the printed copy of their baby's sonogram and turned off the machine.

"Yes," replied Cameron.

"No," House answered.

The two looked at the other and laughed, then both looked at the doctor and said, "No."

"Okay. The baby looks fine, the heartbeat is strong, and I want to see you in four weeks, then two weeks after that then once a week until the baby comes. There's only eight weeks left!"

House groaned under his breath and Dr. Crooks smiled at Cameron, patted her hand then left the two expectant parents alone. Cameron pulled her tunic top down over belly and grabbed House's arm to pull herself up.

"You really don't want to know what the sex is?" Cameron asked surprised.

"No, I just said that because I thought _you _didn't want to know. Do you?"

"No."

They laughed at the other as Cameron threw her legs over the table and stood, still in House's arms. He bent his head down and kissed her sweetly and lovingly; she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back affectionately.

When they broke from each other House asked, "Cam, when do you think it's a good idea for you to move in with me?" His voice was deep and shaky from nerves over finally getting the courage to ask her.

Her mouth hung open. "Uh, well…" It's not that she didn't have an answer; she was in shock he'd finally asked her. That was one thing Cameron never checked with him about – her moving in with him. They'd spend at least three nights together, mostly on the weekends, but there was always one night during the week he'd come over to her place. It was her rule. Her 'Soon-to-be-House rule?'

"Oh, now you ask me; having to move now that I can barely move and can't even get out of bed on my own."

"Don't worry about that. I wouldn't expect you to…"

"Let's talk about that later, okay? Oh, and if it's a boy I want to name it Alexander, after my uncle," she said, out of the blue.

She broke their embrace and headed for the door. She was nervous about bringing it up because she didn't think he'd like the name but it slipped out before she realized it. Suddenly House stopped and stared off at the wall, his head tilted and his eyes narrowed in thought.

"I know what's wrong with Hannah. And it's not good."

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

"Chase, Foreman, get an MRI on Hannah's brain, including her brain stem, and check her myelin," House said as he opened the door for Cameron to walk through but he continued to stand holding the door open. He didn't even wait for them to answer. He turned and hurried off to Wilson's office.

"Wilson, Hannah has Dysmyelogenic Leukodystrophy," House said proudly that he'd solved the 'mystery' and sat down in the chair across from Wilson.

Wilson looked up and frowned. "Alexander's disease? Do you even know how rare…oh, God. There's no treatment or cure for that." He sighed and put his forehead in his palm.

"Yeah, I know, she's gonna die," he said distantly, but not mean. "I should have figured it out sooner with her small stature…and her fingers. I hadn't even noticed those."

"It can't be," Wilson rebuffed. "We need to get an MRI…"

"Foreman and Chase are doing that now."

Wilson looked out the window sadly. "All we can do is drain any fluid that might have accumulated on her brain, which there will be _if _she has it, but it'll only be a matter of time before it happens again and…" Wilson was just lying to himself. He knew the likelihood she did have it was pretty high; he just didn't want to believe it.

House didn't respond and desperately wanted to change the subject now that he had his bright and shining moment of discovering it was Alexander's disease. But he knew Wilson was upset and didn't think it was a good idea. But, when he thought better of it, he didn't really care.

"How did it go last night with you and Debra?"

Wilson shot him a cold glance then his face relaxed. "Oh, oh, fine. We talked for an hour; I had no clue that's what was bothering her. It felt good to get it out in the open."

"Yeah, well, you remember the only rule I had about the marriage, don't you?" House asked, giving Wilson a threatening glare.

"You said you'd bobbet-tize me if we ever divorced."

"Exactly!"


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Thursday night of the same week…

"Cam'ron…Alli…Ca…" House's words were choked with coughs; he was barely able to breath, much less call out for her in his dream. His throat was dry and hurt with each sound he made.

"Where are…you? Cam! Answer me, damnit!"

"House, HOUSE!"

"I hear you…where ARE you? I need you!"

"House, wake UP!"

House felt something tug at his arm and he groaned, not wanting to wake up but he had to find Cameron.

SMACK! Something flat and sharp slapped House in his face and he jerked his head in the direction it came from and reached up to his face.

"Ow, what th…"

"House, get up! There's a fire!"

Cameron grabbed him harder by the arm and pulled him up. House started to cough heavily and finally opened his eyes. Cameron was in her nightshirt, standing beside the bed, panic written all over her face.

"Fire?"

House looked around the room and could see smoke pouring in through the vent on the floor and stood in a flash, grunting with pain as he walked to his cane and grabbed his jacket with his vicodin in the pocket. He looked down at the boxers and t-shirt and realized with dread he wouldn't have enough time to change clothes before they left. He grabbed his pants and shirt as well as Cameron's sweats and turned back to her.

"What are you _doing?_ We have to GO!" she screamed, taking a few steps closer to the door.

House's first thought was Cameron because her mobility had slowed tremendously since she barely passed the middle of the third trimester.

"Cam…ok, hold on," he said, not that he didn't want to get out of there, but to asses the situation and think of the smartest thing to do; not to get him out safely but to get _her_ out safely.

"Shut UP and come ON!" she cried urgently.

She pulled him out into the living room as hard as she could, and considering her condition House was impressed at the arm strength she had. Cameron turned toward the window and saw

smoke billowing around in the early morning wind in dark, perilous whirls. She grabbed her purse, which was all she could really take herself, and handed a photo album to House to carry. He grabbed onto _her _arm and led her to the door, stopping and feeling the door for any heat.

"It's not hot. Come on."

"Are…are you sure? Is it even warm…"

House wasn't even listening to her when he opened the door. Smoke drifted into the apartment, but it wasn't heavy smoke by any means. He reached behind him, grabbed Cameron by the waist and led her out into the hallway.

"Where are the stairs?"

"This way," she said as she pulled him with her.

When they reached the stairwell door House opened it and heavier smoke flew into their faces, causing him to cough and her to cover her mouth with the clothes House handed to her. They took a few steps in and almost ran into an elderly man that was slowly and painfully making his way down to the landing where they'd just stepped out on.

"It's…" he muttered, having difficulty taking in a breath from the descent down. "…on the fourth floor."

"Mr. Matthews, we only have one more floor. Can you (she broke into a throaty cough) make it one more flight?"

"Yeah…yeah…"

She reached out and grabbed Mr. Matthews' arm and helped him to the top of the next flight as House stood behind her and impatiently waited for them to take one step at a time. He kept a close eye on Cameron and was always in easy reach if she stumbled; he wasn't too concerned about the man, though, as sad as that sounded.

They reached the bottom step and just as they stepped onto the landing a fireman forced the door in and helped the three out – well, he helped Cameron out first then another fireman helped Mr. Matthews, with House following closely behind.

The fireman threw blankets over House and Cameron (Mr. Matthews wandered off in search of his friends) and escorted them to a curb on a far end of the parking lot, zig-zagging past fire engines and over water hoses draped on the concrete. They asked each of them if they were okay and when Cameron said she was, the firemen hollered for a paramedic and oxygen just in case before they headed back to the complex to save other residents and battle the blaze.

Shortly after that the paramedic set the oxygen tank on the concrete and assisted her to sit down on the curb. He turned on the tank and put the mask over her face, allowing her to breathe clean air. House took the opportunity to quickly change into his clothes before he sat down slowly and painfully beside her. He dug in his pocket and pulled out two vicodin, dry swallowing them. The EMT told them to take it easy and he'd be back shortly.

After they caught their breath and covered their feet as best as they could with the blankets, they looked up at the apartment complex and saw how bad the fire really was: deep red, white and whirls of light blue flared out of the apartment window two floors directly above Cameron's, the red brick chalked with black above and beside the window. A hook and ladder engine eased its way to the window to get a direct hit into the window to dampen the blaze.

Cameron shivered and leaned against House for warmth. He put his arm around her under his own blanket and rubbed her right shoulder to generate heat; she laid her head on his shoulder and tried to stop shivering.

"Wow," she mumbled quietly.

"Yeah, wow," he repeated. "Gimme me a hit of that, will ya?"

She looked at him and smiled, took off the mask and put it over his mouth and inhaled deeply several times.

They were silent the next thirty minutes while they watched the firemen fight the blaze. Water poured heavily from the fourth floor window onto the floors below, including Cameron's. They had to break her window to get access below, and she buried her eyes into House's shoulder to avoid witnessing it.

"Oh, God," she'd whispered in his ear.

House held her tighter against him, put his left hand over her stomach and whispered back, "Guess you have to come live with me, now."

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

Tuesday of the same week, Wilson had the unfortunate privilege of telling Hannah's parents that her MRI showed water on her brain, that she indeed had Alexander's disease and that even if they drained it, the prognosis wasn't good; it would only return. His heart broke when he told Hannah that because of the rapid progression of the disease, she only had about six months to live.

Wilson didn't have the courage to tell Debra, though; he just kept telling her they were still looking for the cause. But by Thursdayy, Wilson went home and finally told Debra, who broke down and cried for a good ten minutes. Wilson held her and rocked her until her sobs became softer and she started to get control of herself again, but she never let go of the hold she had on him.

"James, make love to me," she whispered, so softly he wasn't sure if he heard her correctly.

He pulled her away from him and looked into her eyes, wiping her face of tears and tried himself to not cry, although his eyes were wet. By the softness and want in her eyes, he knew instantly what she said, and what it meant.

"Oh, God, Debra…I've missed you," he said, his voice soft and sweet to her ears.

Wilson stood up and turned to Debra, took her hand and helped her to stand. She melted into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he put his arms around her waist, their hips meeting and lustily begging for more. Their breath grew as their cheeks met and Wilson kissed her neck softly.

She pulled away from him and took him into her mouth, their lips pressing hard and passionately, noises emitting from their throats as they hungered for the other, their arms tangled as they grasped the other.

They tripped over their feet as they quickly undressed the other in between kissing and were naked by the time they reached the bed, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room. Debra twisted them so she was against the bed and pulled Wilson down on the bed on top of her. It happened so swiftly he was taken off guard and was afraid he'd land on her scar and hurt her.

"Oh, Ja…"

They made love for hours that night, touching, kissing, tasting, smelling the other until they were exhausted and lay beside the other staring at the ceiling as they tried to catch their breath, all the while keeping an ear open if the baby cried out.

"James…I…I don't want to leave you…" she whispered.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere, either," Wilson answered, rolling over and threw his arm around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I love you, Deb," he whispered.

"I love you…" She was interrupted by the phone ringing. "Oh, god, who in the hhh…don't get it," she begged.

"It might be…man! It's 2:30!" He rolled over to the other side and answered the phone with a grunted, "Hello?"

"Jimmy, we need you," House said, his voice quivered as if he had a sudden chill.

"House, what's wrong?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sun-House/Deb went to dinner  
Mon-diagnosing Hannah  
Tue-found Hannah had Alex disease  
Thur-fire...it's all the same week.


	9. Chapter 9

_Here's a little snippet until later…I felt it was a good breaking point._

_Thanks for the reviews, and I'm glad y'all are still with me. Steph_

**CHAPTER NINE**

The past few hours Dr. James Wilson had spent with Debra had been overwhelmingly incredible, passionate, and tender; a never-ending, gut wrenching need to feel the other's body; an urgent want of hunger for the other that kept their bodies locked together as one. The year they'd been together, he never felt as if he and Debra were one entity, one heart, one soul. That didn't mean he didn't lover her, but to lose himself and melt into her essence when they made love just hadn't happened before. But that particular night it did.

As he drove the streets of Princeton to Cameron's now fire-damaged apartment building, he had a huge smile on his face. He put his hand up to his nose to wipe it and smelled her perfume on his fingers, and he closed his eyes briefly to revel in the scent; not of the perfume, but of _her_.

Sure, he had been married three times before. And there are those that believe 'third time's the charm,' but not Wilson. That simply wasn't the case for him now; it was the _fourth_ time that was the charm. And her name was Debra Lynn House-Wilson.

At the thought of House's name his mind went back to the real reason why he was out at 3:30 am on a cold, windy, damp autumn morning. His attention turned back to his true goal: to get to Cameron's apartment, get Debra and House and take them home. A few blocks later, he turned onto her street and saw a parking spot at the far end of the lot and got out of the car, standing in the opened door and couldn't help but marvel at the site before him.

There were still fire trucks at the scene as well as several police cars and a few curious night owls that watched the smoldering fire. Semi-heavy smoke still desperately tried to escape its captor of the top floor apartment through the window; the front of the building was drenched with water from the fire hoses that had been attacking it the past hour; mattresses and miscellaneous debris littering the front lawn.

He closed the door and walked toward the building but a policeman stopped him from getting any closer. He explained he was looking for friends that had called him, and when asked their names, the man pointed to a cruiser on the other side of a nearby fire truck.

Wilson walked past the fire truck and looked at the gadgets and metal nobs that had intrigued him so much when he was a boy; he made a mental note to be sure to take Gregory for his first birthday. (I know! One-year old, you say? Like the boy would know what he was looking at? It would be Wilson's first attempt at using his son to digress into being a little boy himself, and happily relive his own childhood.)

He reached the front of the truck and as he looked to his right saw a cruiser with a familiar-colored head of hair pressed against the back window, which was slightly steamed up. Raunchy thoughts ran through his head but as he got closer he noticed the cruiser's engine was on, no doubt providing heat to the flimsily clad pair.

He tapped on the window lightly so as not to scare them but Cameron jumped and flung her head around so fast her head kicked back and it smacked the window pretty hard.

"I'm so…sorry!" Wilson said through the glass, his fingers pressed against it as if that would ease her pain.

The car shook a bit then Wilson heard, "Smooth move, ex-lax." It was House that had appeared at the other side of the car's roof and his arms flew on top, making reverberating, deep thumps as he pretended it was a bongo drum.

Wilson heard a tap at the window in front of him and opened the door for Cameron to get out. Wilson was taken aback by her appearance, but was not surprised, considering what she'd just gone though. She looked as if she'd smacked into the fire truck itself and lost. House slammed his door shut and walked around behind the cruiser, good 'ole flaming cane in one hand and a photo album in the other.

"Sorry, daddy! We meant to call after the prom but we drank too much and the cops found us and…"

"House, not funny," Cameron griped as she gave him a dirty, angry look. "Wilson, take me home, please," she begged as she absent-mindedly started to walk off.

It was so early in the morning, and Wilson was on the verge of exhaustion from his amorous adventure with Debra, that he almost didn't realize she meant House's apartment. Wilson had to quicken his pace to catch up with her to stop her because she was going in the wrong direction.

"No, Allison, this way."

He slightly redirected her body to the right way with his hands on her shoulders and kept them there, which were still clad with the blanket they'd received earlier. As they took a few steps he put his arm around her waist for support, comfort; whatever he could give her to reassure her.

He talked with her softly to her while he would check behind them every few steps to make sure House was following closely, but he never said anything to House. He was pissed, and rightly so.

At one point, House was so close to Wilson he whispered, "She's not going to need your stupid-assed remarks tonight, House. Think you can be supportive of her and help her deal with what's happened?"

House stopped immediately in mid step and looked at Wilson as if he were shooting flames of fire directly at his head then continued to walk.

"Oh, grumpy Jimmy pooh. Did we get you out of a warm, comfy bed with Debra to come and…"

And then it hit House and he felt like shit. "Wilson, sorry, man." He knew they were going through a distant rough patch, and he truly did feel bad. The only reason they called Wilson was because Cameron's brother, Jack, was out of town on a business trip.

Wilson continued to hold Cameron as they got nearer to his car, and he unlocked the back seat, helped her get in, and buttoned the seat belt across her shoulder and waist, which barely made it across her full stomach. He stood up, grabbed the blanket from House's shoulders, amongst whiny protests, and placed that over her as well for added warmth.

"Cam…we'll be in in two seconds, ok?" Wilson said reassuringly, but the vacant stare she had truly worried him.

Wilson closed the door and turned to House. "Look, I'm serious. She's really _gone_, House. Do you want her to come to our…"

"Hell, no!" he shouted. "I can take care of her. I did before," House said proudly, as if he were a 13-year old boy being left home alone for a few hours for the first time.

House suddenly shivered and Wilson knew they had to get inside the car before House caught his death of cold, due to the light clothing House was wearing. As they pulled out of the complex, Wilson looked in the rear view mirror at House to see how he was doing. Wilson could see his arm up and over something, knowing his arm was around Cameron but he couldn't see her head.

When Wilson looked in House's face, he was glaring right back at him. Then, magically, House's face softened and his eye lost their narrow slits.

"Wilson, I'm sorry we called you away from Debra. I know…for you two…it's…been…tough…"

"Yeah, ya did kinda…"

"Hey, it's just a defensive mechanism; when I'm stressed I joke, and seemingly poorly. You should know that," House said in defense of himself.

"Well, I hadn't really noticed, no," Wilson said, playfully sarcastic.

"Loser," House whispered.

"I heard that! Dog breath!"

"Weiner schnitzel!" House shouted.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: This chapter was written today, the day after Resignation, and there is some material I used for this chapter. Just a warning – there will be spoilers in this for those that haven't seen it yet._

**CHAPTER TEN**

"Howzzz…" Cameron muttered in her sleep, her head jerking slightly and her eyelids moving in REM sleep as if she were looking around the room for him. Her arms were waving out in front of her as if she were completely blinded by smoke and waving her hands in front of her face to keep the smoke at bay.

House was yanked awake when she suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled at him, crying out for him repeatedly, her eyes still closed.

"Cameron, stop…girl…" House said, softly at first but then grew concerned. He sat up, held onto her shoulders as she lay in bed, and gently rocked her to wake her up from her nightmare.

"Whaaare…fire…aaar you?" she implored, a tear fell from left eye.

"Cam…Allison, wake UP!" he shouted.

Cameron's entire body unexpectedly jerked as she came awake and bolted in a sitting position. House was right in her face and as she came up her forehead hit his chin, sending his head back briefly; she fell back down on the pillow from the mild impact.

As he brought his head back, the look of shock on his face startled Cameron. "Oh…Gr…what happ…?"

House reached up and touched his chin. "Uh, I think you won the boxing match."

Cameron was fully awake now and sat up again with much effort, reached out for him and cupped his chin in her palm, bringing her face closer and giving his chin a soft kiss. She glanced at the clock and grunted when it was only 7:30 am; she felt like it was more like 7:30 _pm_.

"Sorry 'bout that. God, I wish you would shave…" Cameron hesitated when the dream came back to her and her face fell, her shoulders slumped and she threw herself back down on the bed.

"Everything's gone, isn't it?" she asked him as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"'Fraid so. But Wilson offered to do whatever you need, okay? There might be some things left but the Chief will call us…you, when it's safe to go back in. You don't have to worry..."

She slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah…that's swee' ovvv Willl…"

Cameron had fallen back to sleep, thankfully, and House lay back down on his side, his head in his hand and stared at her for what seemed like forever. She never had dreams or nightmares so he was a little freaked out, but he completely understood her fear. He reached out his hand and rubbed it against her stomach, wondering what kind of little monster was going to pop out of there in two months' time.

Months earlier, after they made the announcement of her pregnancy to staff, Brenda had asked him if he wanted a boy or a girl, saying she assumed he'd want a boy.

"Ye-hah" he had exclaimed, his nose crinkled, his mouth open and his head tilted.** "**Girls are complicated. I mean, the instruction manual that comes with the female stork is 800 pages long, no pictures, with chapters 14, 19, 26 and 32 missing. Plus it's badly translated and I don't have time to…" His words faded from her as Brenda scurried off to assist a patient.

But for now, he was content knowing that soon he'd be a dad, and she was now living with him as he wanted, although it scared the crap out of him. When he asked Stacy to move in with him after a week of just meeting, it was not even a question or point of worry of what the future held for them – it was one day at a time. But now, this was completely different with Cameron. There was a baby on the way, Cameron had just lost everything she'd ever owned – more than likely, except for her photo album – and he _was _concerned about the future.

House hated change, absolutely _hated_ it. Change simply scared the crap out of him, and he had a lot of crap to deal with. He preferred his life to be the same, plain and simple, especially after the infarction: wake up the same time, pee the same time, go to work the same time, avoid clinic duty at the same time, stare at Cuddy's cleavage at the same time.

But maybe this was a test for him; a test to see if the hell he'd been through all his life was worth all the treasure and gifts he had now. And without Wilson, he never would have chosen that as a possibility.

It had taken two weeks for the effects of the Wellbutrin to begin to show any type of difference in his demeanor. It had done its job of messing with his memory on the negative side, and that should have been his first clue right there. The second clue should have been the fact that he was smiling more, even though he hadn't realized he was; that was the positive side. It wasn't like he was happy, oh no. He chugged it off as being 'hazy', which he hated. But others' noticed he _was_ 'different.'

After retribution was served to Wilson, he _had_ gone to a counselor for a 'scrip, but nothing else. He'd sit across from the counselor and just stare at the wall, desk, anything but the inquiring eyes. But, he still got them. And, he still took them, although he only took 15mg a day instead of 30mg.

Cameron stirred in her sleep and he rested his head on the pillow, keeping his eyes on her, though. He had fallen for her, grown attached to her, loved being in her company, loved making love to her, loved waking up in the mornings with her head resting on his chest with her hair tickling his chest hair, possibly even _loved her _but he just couldn't admit to himself he was _in_ love with her.

Not that he never would, there was always that possibility. After all, he did love Stacy, but there was more at stake now. He closed his eyes for just a moment…

…and the next thing House heard was an echo of vomiting coming from the bathroom. His eyes flew open and he was facing the clock. It read 11:30am. He sat up, popped two pills from the bottle he kept by the bed, and went into the bathroom to check on Cameron.

"Cam…"

"Sorree Gr…." she mumbled, holding her stomach with one hand and keeping her hair back off of her face with the other. Her face was glued over the toilet bowl. "I dinn't mean to wake…" She let off another load in the toilet and then gargled and choked and coughed up what had erupted in her mouth before it hit the water in the toilet.

House took a few steps in and kneeled down beside her as best as he could without sending a wave of pain through his leg. He put his hand on her lower back and massaged it a bit, hoping it would ease some of the cramping that he was very familiar with from many times in the same position.

"Cam…are you having any pain or cramp…"

"No, no. I…just was lying in bed watching you sleep and thinking of my apartment…" she spoke into the toilet and it eerily echoed back.

He reached up above his head and pulled down the hand towel that was hanging from the rack. He gently raised her head and brought it to her mouth, wiping the vomit from her lips and chin, all the while looking into her eyes for some kind of clue as to why she was so ill.

Her vomiting eased up but she still hung over the toilet, just in case another wave of nausea hit her unexpectedly and she lost it again.

"Allison, I'm going to get you some orange juice to settle your stomach. You need the fluids. Stay here."

"'K," she mumbled.

House returned a moment later with a half-filled glass of juice and sat on the edge of the side of the tub, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She was sitting down now, her face pale, her strength gone. He remained silent and when she did look at him he handed her the glass, and she took it. She took a few sips and handed it back to him.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Hmm-hmm. I don't know what got into me," she lied.

"I'm going to call Dr. Crooks and get you in to see him today."

"No, no. I'm fi…n." She suddenly grabbed her stomach and moaned. "Can…can you help me up?"

It took a few minutes for House to pull Cameron up on her feet and she swayed a little, but he was right there and grabbed a hold of her, helping her out of the bathroom.

When they finally reached the bed she immediately sat down and crawled into her side of the bed; she always preferred the side that was the closest to the door – she'd done that ever since she was a kid. House pulled the covers up over her, sat down beside her and she looked up at him and smiled weakly. He pushed the hair out of her face and smiled back.

"I'm sorry to be a pa…"

"Stop it, you're not. That's why I'm here," he said reassuringly.

"I…I was watching you sleep and thought of the fire and my grandmother's blanket she knitted me and Mom's jewelry…everything…I've lost _everything_."

"No, no, you haven't. You've still got me, and the baby."

Cameron didn't answer him but simply closed her eyes and her body sunk into the mattress. House leaned into her, kissed her on her forehead and sat back up. After a moment, he walked into the kitchen, drank a full glass of orange juice and sat on the sofa in the living room. He reached over, picked up the phone, dialed Dr. Crook's office and got an appointment with him at 4:00 for Cameron.

He didn't hang the phone up but pressed the 'hang up' button then dialed another number.

"Dr. Wilson."

"Wilson…" House said; his voice soft and weak.

"Yes, Dr. Wil…House? Is that you? What's wrong?"

"Has Debra started back to work yet?"

"No, she's starting in two weeks. We got the last slot here at the daycare center and enrolled Greg…wait, why? Is Cameron okay?"

He didn't directly answer him but said, "You were right."

"Right? God, I hate it when you answer a question with a question. Right about what _this _time?

"I can't take care of Cameron on my own. I barely got her out of the bathroom without dropping her. And no, I'm not sure she's okay. She just got done filling the toilet bowl. Think Deb can stay with Cameron, or Cam stay with Debra and Gregory, until she starts work again?"

"Sure, let me give her a call."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The answer from House to Brenda is actually a real quote Hugh Laurie made. It was tweaked by me a little…but not much was changed. This is the original quote I found on  raising his daughter: "Girls are complicated. The instruction manual that comes with girls is 800 pages, with chapters 14, 19, 26 and 32 missing, and it's badly translated, hard to figure out." Quoted by Hugh Laurie – and OH SO TRUE:o) 


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hello, all! Just a fair warning: The next few chapters will revolve around Debra a bit, but House and Wilson are still there. But there is a reason for it, a very IMPORTANT reason for it; it dwells into House's past as well, and answers a few questions the two have had since they were children.**_

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"Oh, God," Cameron stammered when she walked through the door of her water-damaged and foul-smelling apartment. House walked in behind her, with Wilson and Debra behind them. It was Saturday, two days after the fire in her building complex, and she asked for extra hands in case there were more things spared than she'd anticipated.

When Cameron looked to the right in the alcove where her couch was supposed to be, it wasn't. The chair facing the t.v. and window wasn't there, either. The dining room table and chairs, the extra bookshelf, her treadmill, the entertainment center – all of her furniture was gone. The only thing in the room was burnt drywall, drips of dark, dirty water down the walls and on the carpet, which was mixed with ashes that 'squished' under their feet.

The fire chief was waiting outside the apartment because they allowed residents brief entrance to retrieve anything they could find, but then the building would be condemned until after repairs were completed. He also told Cameron that the fire had burned between the third and fourth floors, where it had originated, and in certain spots on the third floor it burned through to her apartment through the ceiling. They had to remove all combustible items in order to prevent re-ignition of the fire, and they were right – they removed _everything, _and _that_ everything had been scattered across the front lawn of the building after they left. He had warned her of the condition of her place, that there were miscellaneous items that remained – charred books and other items that were indistinguishable. But she didn't want to believe it was that bad, _couldn't _believe it.

Cameron started to take a few steps towards the kitchen, where beyond that was her bedroom, but House held her back, with Debra on her other side. They discussed beforehand that she shouldn't be allowed any further into the apartment, considering neither one of them knew if anything would cause harm to her, or the baby, but mainly the baby.

"No…I've got…to…" She pushed forward with such force House's hand slipped from her shoulder and she took a few steps toward her bedroom.

"Cameron, fine. Stay at the door; Wilson and I will go in, Debra will st…" But she hadn't heard a word of it.

She kept walking to the bedroom but stopped at the door. House was closely behind her and looked over her shoulder. Her bed, nightstand, dresser, and bookshelf were still there – granted, they were severely water and smoke damaged – but they were there in one piece.

Wilson pushed Cameron and House aside as he and Debra went in to look around for a closer look. Cameron uttered under her breath but the two weren't listening. They were kneeling and picking up anything they could find that didn't look beyond trash. While the fire was two floors above her apartment, her bedroom was virtually untouched.

"House, can you get the box?" Wilson asked as he put a few items on the bed.

"Clsssst," Cameron mumbled.

Debra looked up and noticed she was pointing to a door that was half open. Wilson caught the stare and walked to the door and opened it for a full view of its contents. Cameron gasped and took a step forward, but this time House was on her and put tremendous force on her shoulders to stop her. There on the floor was a plastic container, about 2-1/2 feet (2' 2") wide and two feet deep. Wilson reached in a grabbed it and placed it on the bed.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

Later that afternoon Cameron sat on House's bed and was going through the contents of the box they'd recovered from her closet. She was so distraught that she demanded House leave her alone while she did so, and he did. After about an hour she walked out into the living room with a blanket wrapped around her arms, which wasn't big enough to cover her swollen belly, and sat down silently beside House, who was sitting on the couch drinking a Scotch.

"How did it go…" House was sent into a repulsive facial expression and covered his nose. "Cam, you need to wash that…" The blanket was emitting a strong, foul smoke odor, like the smell of a three-day old fire in a fireplace, and not very attractive as perfume on a woman.

"No," she said sternly, and only wrapped herself tighter.

The doctor's appointment the day before with Dr. Crooks showed no complications with Cameron's pregnancy, but he warned that she should remain calm and stress free until she delivered. And the only comfort she had at the moment was her grandmother's blanket that she had around her shoulders.

House looked at her the whole time as she leaned back, threw her head on the back of the cushion and closed her eyes. After several minutes he put his arm over her head, pushed it forward and slid his arm down to her shoulders and pulled her to him. She put up no resistance whatsoever. Her head landed on his right thigh but he didn't flinch; with the Scotch and the vicodin he'd taken, it didn't hurt him at all, well, it did a little, but he could handle it. He lovingly caressed her back and ran his fingers through her hair.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

"Good morning, Debra!" Cuddy said as she entered her office and smiled at Debra.

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy," Debra answered.

"How did Gregory take his first day at Kiddy Care?"

It was Monday morning and it was Debra's first day back to work full time. It was just two weeks earlier when she moved into House's apartment because of the fire and they'd settled in quite well with the new arrangements; well, she did but House was still adjusting to his new roommate.

"Dr. Cuddy, can I go run up to Greg's to see how Cameron is settling in and if my cousin is working his seven-month pregnant girlfriend to death already?" she lied; she had other intentions.

A few minutes later, Debra walked into the diagnostics room and said hello to Foreman and Chase, who were sitting at the table looking at a patient's file.

"Robbie, Gregory was playing with the phone for hours last night – you know, the one you bought him. He loves it," Debra said. She was referring to two weeks earlier when she'd asked him to watch Gregory while they went to Cameron's apartment.

"Great!" Chase said as Foreman rolled his eyes as he looked over the top of the file at him.

"Aw, how sweet, _Robbie_," Foreman teased, with Chase giving her a mean stare but then shook his head.

"Debra Lynn, get in here!" House screamed from his office. She turned to where the voice came from and saw him behind his desk with Cameron sitting across from him. She stepped through the door walked towards Cameron, lovingly patting her shoulder.

"Hey, how are you feeling, Allison?"

"Great, thanks. How did Gregory do at the day care center when you dropped him off? Did he cry?"

"No, not at all! I was surprised. He took to having Robert watch him very nicely but this is an entirely new environment. Jim swore I'd cry right along with him, but I didn't. Well, I did, but it was in the bathroom before I went to my office." House and Cameron smiled at her. "What did you want, Greg?"

"I was wondering, um, well…"

"Oh! Just get ON with it!" she said with a huff. Her patience had been thin recently and every little thing seemed to make her short-tempered.

"Where did Wilson find his real estate agent for your new apartment?" he asked, sipping his coffee as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Debra looked from him to Cameron and then back to House. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I hate change, don't start."

They talked a few minutes and then Debra asked if she could have a minute alone with her cousin.

"Greg, I, um, need your help with something," Debra said as she sat down.

"Is everything okay?"

"Actually, no."


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks for the reviews…and for those that don't really know what to say, a smiley face is good. :o)_

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

House stared at his cousin with concern, worry and fear for her. "How long has it been going on?"

"About two months," she said with embarrassment in her voice, "another reason why I needed to get high; I just didn't say anything about it. But I haven't gotten high since!" she threw in, just to make herself clear. "I figured it would go away, but it hasn't. It's only gotten worse."

"Deb, did Aunt Sharon have post-partum depression…oh…" He could have kicked himself when he realized she hadn't talked to her mom in over a year. "Um, I think you should talk to…"

"No, it's not that. I checked the internet and…it's just…I've been sleeping a lot. When Jim would go to work and I put the baby down I'd sleep – and never want to get out of bed. Once he'd been crying for I don't know how long when I finally got the will to get out of bed to get him. I don't even play with him anymore; I just sit on the couch and watch him play, not even caring. God, I hate it! I hate the way I feel. I…I can't keep doing this. I just need something to keep me going, just 'til it passes."

House shook his head and leaned back in his chair and scrutinized the situation. He leaned forward, opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a prescription pad. "This should work, and since you aren't breast feeding there shouldn't be a problem," he said as he handed her the scrip. "But I won't put a refill on it until you are able to see a counselor, okay?" It was okay for House to tell Debra to see a psychologist, but not for House to see one. House rules are funny that way.

"Thanks, and please don't tell Jim. I'll tell him – when I'm feeling better."

House nodded his head as he watched her walk out of his office to return to her office.

He was floored; he hadn't noticed any change in her, but as she said, she would sleep all day, and Wilson never shared with him any difference in her personality. He shrugged his shoulders and put it to genetics, but he'd get to the bottom of it. House was like that. A simple yawn from Wilson sent him into a frenzy to find out why he was yawning and he wouldn't let it go. And he wouldn't let this go with his cousin, either.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

A few days had passed and Cuddy was in her office panicking because she had a meeting in thirty minutes and she needed a file that she couldn't find. She sighed heavily and called Wilson at his office. Wilson told her that she wasn't feeling well, that he'd brought the baby into work and she'd told him she'd get out of bed as soon as he left. He thanked Cuddy for calling him then called home.

There was no answer.

He called her cell phone. Again, no answer.

He tried the home number again. When it continued to ring, he slammed the phone down and raced to their apartment. He stormed in and immediately called her name but there was no answer. He raced to the bedroom but she wasn't in bed. He hurried to the bathroom where he found her passed out on the floor, nude; a puddle of vomit beside the toilet by her hand.

"Debra!" he screamed as he knelt down by her. He checked her pupils and they were wide and dark. He tried to wake her by slapping her across the face but she was unresponsive.

He dialed 911 and supported her head with a balled up towel. After he checked her head thinking she'd hit it somewhere while getting in or out of the tub, he stood and looked around the bathroom, looking for any sign of what happened. On the counter he saw a bottle that had maybe twenty pills in it.

He picked it up and looked for the name of it: 'Prozac;' prescribed Dr.: 'Gregory House.' The dosage was 10mg twice a day, a high quantity from someone just starting on it. The number of prescribed pills was thirty but there were ten missing. He cursed out loud and fell to the floor beside her, covering her with another towel and asking 'why' over and over. He didn't know how long it was that he sat beside her when a paramedic burst into the bathroom and startled him. He'd forgotten he left the front door open in his haste to find Debra.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

"You KNEW about her depression and you didn't TELL me?!" Wilson screamed at House.

"Would you keep it down? She's trying to sl…"

"_Screw_ that! You should have sent her to a psychiatrist, or at least _tell_ me!"

"She didn't want me to…"

House and Wilson were in Debra's hospital room having their fight. It was early evening and Debra had her stomach pumped after the multiple pills she took and was given a concoction of medication with fluids that she'd lost earlier. The two men were waiting impatiently for her to wake up. They had a lot of questions to ask her.

House broke the sudden silence by asking, "Haven't you noticed any changes in her?"

Wilson didn't answer right away but walked to the window and looked out over the dark and almost empty parking lot. "No, except…she hasn't been sleeping well, a little cranky, not to mention the lack of sex…" He hesitated a moment a little embarrassed, but he felt it was important since their sex life had decreased a bit after the birth, but that had been remedied several times since they talked. "But that's probably because of her par…" Wilson suddenly shut up.

House's eyes bugged out when he heard that. "What _about_ her parents?"

Wilson turned to look at him and told him that she'd talked with her mom over the phone a few times and had talked about going to visit her parents, but that Debra wasn't ready for it quite yet. House knew her parents seemed to have disowned her since she'd left for New Jersey but her parents were never really a topic they talked about all that often.

"But…that's no reason for her to…Oh, god…" House stammered before Cameron walked in the room.

She ordered the two men to leave so Debra could rest, and they did, but said not a word to the other as they went back to their perspective offices. Cameron stayed with Debra and sat in the chair beside her for a few minutes, looking over her vitals and checking for any irregular heartbeats.

But Debra was fine, and sitting forward in the chair there was intense pressure on Cameron's bladder from the baby. She stood and turned to leave when she heard her name very quietly, gargly, as if there were sand in the back of the person's throat. She walked back to Debra's side.

"Deb…hey…talk to me."

Debra moaned and groaned as she tried to un-clue her lips to talk. She couldn't open her eyes, she knew that much. Her eyes felt as if the eyeballs had been ripped out and gravel was thrown in there – very swollen, hot and sore. And her head hurt – like it had never hurt before, not even after a night of drinking, or vomiting for half an hour with the flu. She couldn't swallow because the tube they'd inserted to induce vomiting scratched it slightly, and her stomach felt like it'd been torn open with someone's bare hands.

"kkkk,"

"It's Allison…Debra…say something. Do you know where you are?"

It was a second or two before she answered, "Dizzzznee Worl'?" Cameron took her seriously and she was startled, but when a faint smile crossed Debra's lips she knew she was just being funny. "Hmmmpph…Jjjjjjjjj…fin' me?" she asked, smacking her lips.

"Yeah, he did. You're going to be fine. They pumped your stomach and…"

With those words Debra tried in vain to open her eyes because she knew what everyone was thinking, but she still couldn't. "Al…I…did't try…kill…mmmself."

"Debra…get some sleep. I'll stay here for a while, okay? Just relax."

"Ggggd, where' Jmm?"

"Shhhhh," she whispered, trying to calm her. "You can talk to him later."

"I wan' Jmmm…I dddn't meeeen…kill mmmsef…tell 'hmmm," she gasped, desperation and pain plainly on her face.

"Okay, yes, of course I'll tell him."


	13. Chapter 13Part One

_Okay! Here comes the drama! We'll find out why Debra relates to House so well, and vice versa! _

_This is the pivotal point of the story that I'd been alluding to, as to why I've covered so much of Debra lately. It is emotional, and NOT to sound conceited, but I think really, really emotional, which is what I'm hoping I've conveyed._

_WARNING: As I am not getting into heavy detail of a certain aspect in Debra's past, it could be a little disturbing. THEREFORE: I'm rating this chapter __an –R – __This has totally been fabricated by me, but something I can empathize with and put into words. This was difficult for me and I mean no disrespect to those that may have experienced it._

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – Part One**

"You know, I'm getting real tired of looking at your butt when you stare out that window," Debra whispered, her voice dry and scratchy.

Wilson's head turned in a flash and he raced to her bedside. "Deb…Debra…how are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his hands on the bedrail and not touching her, a posture that Debra picked up on right away.

Her eyes were only half open and the rims of her eyes were swollen and extremely red, adding a million crows-feet on each corner and purple highlights under both eyes. She hadn't felt any better, even after four more hours of sleep since Cameron left her.

"Jim, I didn't…"

"Shhh, don't. You need rest. Do you want some water?"

She nodded her head and said, "Didn't mean to kill myself…I just wanted to feel bet…"

Wilson poured some ice water into a glass on the tray by the bed, turned around and handed it to her then realized she wouldn't be able to drink it without the bed propped up, so he did that first then handed her the glass. She drank it eagerly and handed it back to him, throwing her head back into the pillow.

Wilson kept his eyes on her silently; he didn't believe a word of it. "Why, Debra?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She frowned and knew it was going to come; she'd watched her husband stand at the window for ten minutes thinking of what exactly to say to him. She thought she was ready when she spoke his name, but apparently not.

"I told you, I didn't." Her eyes flew open but only briefly before they were forced back half-shut. "Oh, God...I wouldn't…"

"Yes, you would," came a voice from the doorway.

Both Wilson and Debra turned to see who it was, though they already knew.

"House, out," Wilson told him curtly but House ignored him. He sauntered into the room and stood on the other side of the bed, leaning against the wall.

"I just wanted the pain to go away…I wanted to feel better. I just wasn't thinking straight," she muttered, trying to keep her voice calm and the tears at bay. She looked from her husband to her cousin back to her husband. Her eyes pleaded for Wilson to believe her but she read no sympathy in them whatsoever.

"Why didn't you just _talk_ to me? If it was something I did then we could have talked about it," Wilson said.

Debra had her mouth open to answer the question when House said, "Because, it wasn't you."

Wilson looked at House confused, but Debra continued to look at her husband. She'd closed her eyes and seemed to pretend House wasn't even there, but with his overpowering presence that wasn't about to happen.

"Wha'?" Wilson stuttered.

"She loves you, and she loves Gregory; it's her parents she hates."

Wilson shot House a glance that could have killed if they were laser beams. Debra slowly opened her eyes and looked at Wilson, defeat and weakness in her eyes. She was speechless, and it wasn't because of the effects of the Prozac overdose.

House took a few steps closer to the bed, practically standing over top of her. "Well, you love Aunt Sharon; it's Uncle George you hate."

Debra slowly blinked and turned to look at House. "I most certainly do not…"

"Bull shit!" House screamed, causing Debra's eyes to fly all the way open but they didn't stay that way; they bounced back to the half-shut position. "We're in the same boat, aren't we?" he asked; his head tilted and his eyes narrowed, waiting for the answer.

Wilson looked at him confused, but Debra knew exactly what he was talking about. Yet words failed her; reassurance from her husband failed her, too, but only because he didn't realize the gravity of the situation.

"What did he do to you?" House asked with a flicker of anger that flared in his azure-blue eyes.

Debra swallowed hard and looked away from him, repositioned herself on the bed and groaned from the ache that reverberated through her body from the drug in her system.

"House, not now," Wilson said, trying to deflate the mood in the room.

"No, no. He's right." Now it was Wilson's turn to flinch as he looked at his wife when she spoke. She looked back at her cousin but stretched out her right hand to Wilson, who took it and squeezed it tight.

"How did you know?" she asked House weakly.

"A few clues. What did he _do_ to you?" he asked again, this time more forceful and angry.

Debra took a deep breath and seemed to hold it forever until she exhaled and talked of her nightmare, House-style.

"You ever wonder why I felt – feel – so close to you, Greg? Ever wonder why I could relate to you so well? Why I wanted you to move in with us? Wanted to spend so much time with you over the summers? Wonder why I'd cry in the room next to your bedroom from hearing you cry because your father smacked the crap out of you for doing something so small and meaningless it wasn't even worth it? Or even the times he sent you to bed without dinner…because I knew…what you were going through." The last few words were barely above a whisper, but she was heard.

She was definitely heard.

House nodded his head in silence; only the two of them knowing what she meant. Wilson's legs seemed to collapse under him as he slowly began to guess and he had to sit down on the bed beside her to prevent keeling over. Debra looked at Wilson and lifted his arm with her hand in his and squeezed it, forcing a smile, a very unnatural and fake smile.

"Did he touch you?" House asked, not wanting to hear the answer. Wilson's eyes shot up at House but House didn't pay attention to Wilson; as far as he was concerned, Wilson wasn't even there. Debra didn't answer; she continued to look at Wilson.

"DID HE _TOUCH_ YOU?!" The urgency and volume of House's question shook her, as she had never, ever heard him use that tone with her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; a hot tear fell from her right eye. Wilson wiped it away with his free left hand.

"Yes."


	14. Chapter 13 Part Two

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – Part Two**

The gasp that escaped Wilson's lips broke the shocked silence in the room.

"But just once. I was seven, and just came back from seeing you in Germany." She was referring to House. "Remember when we played football and I threw the ball at your crotch?" A small giggle escaped her; House grinned slightly and nodded his head. "You couldn't walk for an hour. Okay, wait…I'm jumping ahead."

"Debra, you don't have to do this," Wilson told her.

"I know…I want to…I need to."

Here is where she breathed in again heavily, holding it in for several seconds. She closed her eyes and relayed what happened.

"I started second grade that fall and came home the first day all excited and couldn't wait for Dad to get home to show him my book that I got from the library. It was Curious George. I don't know if I got it because it was Dad's name or not. Anyway, I was in my room and reading it when Mom called me and Danny for dinner. Apparently Dad was in a foul mood and already had a drink before we started to eat; that's what Danny warned me before we went down. I brought the book to the table to show him and Dad went ballistic."

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling and continued. "'Don't bring that shit to the table.'" She said that in a deep, man voice, imitating her father. "He threw the book across the dining room floor and the hard cover tore away from the pages. I cried, he yelled, Mom yelled at Dad, I cried, Danny ate, I cried." Her voice started to shake and it was apparent she was having trouble speaking of the memory of that night; Wilson held her hand tighter.

"Mom must have talked with him because he came in later with the book; he had tried to repair it as best as he could, which for a seven year-old is a big deal. You wouldn't think a seven year-old would remember that, but I think the reason why I do is because I remember the smell of the liquor on his breath. And…"

House seemed to sway a bit from shifting the weight of his right leg to his left. Debra saw his movement from the corner of her eye and looked at her cousin. "Sit." He sat down, thankfully. This is where she wanted to be – in between the only two men in her life she ever truly loved.

"He was all lovey-dovey at first but I pushed him away – as best as a child could, which isn't much. I was on the bed in my one-piece pajamas and he sat…on the bed beside me. He wanted a hug and a kiss for forgiveness and I wouldn't. I think I cried; I'm not sure. I went to stand – actually I rolled over, and landed on my face on the carpet. He ran over and picked me up…"

She closed her eyes again, as if what she was saying hadn't actually happened. Too many minutes ticked by and the silence was killing both men. Wilson nodded to House because he thought she had fallen asleep.

"…and put me back on the bed…" The two men looked at each other and settled back in. "But when he did, his hand slipped up my pajamas…inside my thigh…just touched my…" Her eyes flew up as the memory flooded back to her.

"And you kicked him," House whispered, completely enthralled in her story.

"Yep. Good timing, thanks for playing," she teased, trying to force a smile but failed miserably; Wilson squeezed her hand again, gently rubbing her thumb joint with his thumb. A sob escaped her throat but she wasn't quite done, yet. She closed her eyes one last time.

"He grabbed his crotch and rolled over, howling in pain. I ran out of the bedroom and ran for Mom, who didn't do diddly-shit, by the way. So, no, I don't want to see them."

Again there was silence between the three. House was intensely curious why it appeared she and her mother were rather close, but that must not have been the case. He made a mental note to question her about it later.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

House and Wilson looked at the other. Wilson had tears in his eyes but they didn't fall; House had none.

"Jmmmsss, stay wi' me."

House stood, gave Wilson a nod and left the two alone. He walked a solemn walk down the hallway, eventually rode the elevator and strolled down another hallway to his office. The door closed behind him but he didn't bother turning on the light. He walked straight to his desk led by the light reflecting from the balcony and sat in the chair.

Without thinking, he pulled a bottle of Whiskey from the bottom drawer, the glass beside it and filled it half full. He brought it to his mouth and finished half of the liquor in one swallow. He looked out toward the empty hallway and stared, thinking of what Debra just told them.

There are three different types of abuse: physical, mental and sexual. Which do you think is the worst? Whichever one you answer, you'd be wrong. They are all equally devastating. House had only suffered two; Debra suffered one. Tit-for-tat and all-that. But _had_ she only suffered one?

Suddenly the glass wall between his office and hallway grew blurry, waving both vertically and horizontally. He thought for one split second he was on LSD again, and he sure as hell knew he wasn't drunk yet. He then felt a wet, warm liquid drop from his left eye. He never wiped it away. A second later a tear rolled down his right cheek as he tried to blink it away. That, too, he never wiped away. He let them fall, and the next, and the next. He took the half-full bottle of Whiskey and glass to his recliner and sat down in it heavily, planning on staying there until he finished the bottle.

For all of House's life, he'd felt as if he were alone – a single rose on a multi-branched rose bush; a single geese flying south for the winter; a man walking alone in a desert that never ended nor offered an oasis for water and rest.

He'd never rest. He'd never live – he had _never _lived. The nightmares, the fears, the insecurities – they were all a part of who he was. And he was alone. Or so he thought. But he had Debra, the _one _person who lived his nightmare, and understood him, and had come out so much 'better' than him.

He sighed heavily and finished the last of the liquor in his glass. His face contorted with a sour-puss expression as the Whiskey burned his throat. He made one "accch" sound as it went down. Without thinking, he poured another glass and finished that off within five minutes. Hell, there was only one more glass-ful in the bottle, so he poured that but only nursed it.

House felt like the Grinch when he realized that Christmas wasn't about material possessions. It felt to him his heart grew 'three times larger that day.' The reason?

Because he was no longer alone. Maybe with Debra, _through_ Debra, he could deal with his past. Hell, who was he kidding?

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

_Oh, my head. Why is it so damned bright in here? Somebody shoot me. Oh, they already did._

House soon realized he was still in his recliner in his office and he was very comfortable and warm. Something felt heavy on top of him and forced his eyes open, blinking constantly to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the new day. He found a blanket draped over him and he looked off into the diagnostics room. Cameron was sitting at the desk in the corner searching something on the internet.

_Good girl…downloading my porn. I should hire her._

He grunted and sat up, his leg grunted even louder. He'd fallen asleep – as he would say but he'd actually passed out – with his left foot under his right leg, which put pressure on the leg regardless. He looked over at the table beside the chair and saw his bottle of Vicodin and a glass of water. He looked up and Cameron and silently thanked her. His second thought was his cane, but she'd set it against the wall. He smiled.

A few minutes later he managed to walk into the diagnostics room and had a faint smile on his lips as he looked at Cameron on his way to the coffee machine. Cameron simply stared at him as he walked back to her. He set his right butt cheek on the edge of the desk and sipped the coffee.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"You're welcome. You okay?"

"Yeah. Where are the boys?"

"Doing your clinic duty," she said as she leaned forward and put her left arm around his back and rolled closer to him.

"Ah, I knew there was a reason I didn't fire them. Where's Gregory?" he asked alarmed. It dawned on him that Wilson might still be with Debra upstairs and wondered who Gregory was with.

"I brought him in to the daycare. Wilson's still with Debra. I'm only here for a couple of hours, though. I promised him I'd take him to the petting zoo."

"Isn't he too young to go to a petting zoo?" House asked sheepishly.

"No. He's got this cute book with animals and the texture of their skin and…"

House's expression never changed and it dawned on Cameron what he was really referring to.

"You're such a dirty old man, you know that?!" she teased with a little laugh.

"You are just learning that? You're slow."

She leaned in and gave him a warm, sweet, loving, long kiss, which seemed to them lasted forever. They didn't even hear the throat clear in the doorway between his office until something hit House in his back.

"Ow! Damn!" he yelled as he rubbed his back and turned to see Wilson standing in the door, looking at the floor. House followed his gaze to his red and yellow (having been named 'Rellow') ball rolling toward the book case.

"Debra's awake," he informed them.

"Great. How's she doing, Wilson?" Cameron asked as she rolled away from House and he stood up beside her.

"She's good." He walked in and sat in the chair of the conference table. "She'll be fine. She's strong."

"Want coffee?" House asked.

"No, not after you gave me those amphetamines," he said with a smile.

"Man, would you let it _go_?!"

Cameron stood, brushed her shoulder seductively against House's shoulder and said, "I'm going up to see her."


	15. Chapter 14

_SORRY, GUYS, but I'm at a brain freeze right now! Normally I can log on and type away, but my brain and fingers aren't connected right now. _

_Here's a short chapter until they cooperate, hopefully just a day or two._

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

When Cameron approached the door to Debra's room she could hear the sobs coming from her so she slowly opened the door then quietly closed it behind her. Debra was in a fetal position and her back was curled to the door.

"Debra?" she asked; her voice soft and empathetic.

"Go away," she said, moving slightly and Cameron could tell she was wiping her face.

Cameron quietly walked to the side of the bed, grabbed a chair and sat down without saying a word. Cameron sat in silence for several minutes and let her cry.

"I've lost him, haven't I?" she sobbed, looking at the floor to avoid Cameron's stare.

Cameron shook her head and leaned in closer. "No, you haven't."

"Ye…yes I have." She took a deep breath, wiped her face and finally looked at Cameron.

"Debra, you've only lost him if you don't try to get yourself better."

Debra giggled and it brought a smile to Cameron. "I guess I'm a mess, huh?" She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, growing solemn again.

"Wilson is a good man; he's not going anywhere."

"I know. I just feel…numb."

"Look, Hou…Greg knows how strong you are, and I think he kind of looks up to you for that."

"Wha', how can he? Did he tell you that?" She hesitated a moment in thought. "When I was younger he was _my _rock."

Cameron smiled at that but tears started to come to Debra's eyes again and she buried her face in her folded arms across her knees. Cameron stood, lowered the bed rail and sat on the bed beside her. She put her hand on Debra's shoulder and she leaned into Cameron; she put both arms around Debra and let her cry again.

When she calmed down a bit Cameron said, "Debra, I don't know what you're going through, but just know I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to…or someone to cry to."

At that, Debra laugh-cried a few times, hiccupping in between trying to catch her breath. "Thanks, I know. You're…a good friend."

Cameron stood and put out her arms out to Debra. "What?"

"Come on. We're going to see someone." Debra looked at Cameron expectantly and smiled. Cameron smiled at her and said, "There's someone that needs his Mommy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that night as House and Cameron lie besides the other staring at the ceiling, House turned to Cameron as said, "I think you and Debra should go clothes shopping. With the money I've saved by not needing hookers I can afford it."

It was so random and out-of-the-blue – albeit a little mean – for House to say something so generous and unselfish that Cameron turned sharply and looked at him for a moment. The room was dark, a soft orange glow emitting from the clock radio and the nightlight in the bathroom, but aside from that, she could still see the outline of his face staring back at her.

When the shock overcame her, she agreed that it would be a good idea. "It'll keep her mind occupied, I guess." Her voice was bland and emotionless that at first it worried him.

"And yours, too, Allison."

She didn't answer but turned her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Do you know when she's going back to work?"

"I think Wilson said she'd see the shrink twice before she leaves; one was this afternoon and the other will be tomorrow. So maybe by the end of the week? I don't know."

"_Psychologist_. It'll be good for her to work. Oh, we've got LaMaze tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, god, don't make me go!" he whined.

"Sorry, but you're going. It's your fault I'm in this predicament."

House sighed heavily and put his arms over his head with his head in his hands. "There's nothing I can say to get out of it, is there?"

"Nope."

"Crap."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wilson also lay in bed that night, not in House's bed, but his own. Well, his and Debra's. There was nothing he could do to help Debra, or make her feel better, or face her fears; but the one thing he could do was just be there for her when she needed him, and he was – he always would be.

They talked a little before he went home with Gregory, who'd fallen asleep cradled in her arm.

"Deb, I was on anti-depressants myself for a while. There's no shame in it."

"No, there isn't, but you didn't have a little tyke to be responsible for, either."

"Yes, I did – your cousin." That made Debra laugh and she knew it'd be alright.


	16. Chapter 15

_**Here's a nice long one! I'm afraid I'm a bit into the depressing stuff now, but I'll try to throw some humour in there. **_

_**Thanks for the reviews!!! They mean a lot:o) Steph**_

**_PS-I should stress that the Nitro Glycerin is for her heart, NOT the anxiety._**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

"Ewwww…oh my gaw…no way! That's humanly impossible!"

"House, shut UP!"

Cameron elbowed House in his stomach as they sat, with the expectant father in shock, watching a video on natural childbirth. They and three other couples were sitting on the floor on mats, the soon-to-be mothers with their legs bent out in a triangle, leaning back against their birthing coaches.

In the video, the baby's head was just beginning to crown and Cameron had to force herself to watch. She wasn't disgusted by it; she was scared as hell but not disgusted. And she knew House was just hiding his own discomfort, not the actual event that would present itself in seven weeks' time. Or, at least that's what she hoped.

Just as the baby's head popped out through the vaginal canal House screamed out, "IT'S ALIVE! IT'S AL…Ow!" Cameron shoved her elbow into stomach again. "If you don't stop hit…"

"Dr. House, I must ask you to take this class seriously…"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on," House answered, rudely interrupting her. "I hope that baby of yours kicks you just as hard as you hit me," he whispered in Cameron's ear.

"Oh, please. You're a doctor! You were there for Gregory's birth."

"Yeah, but that wasn't _my _baby coming out of my _baby_!"

"Dr. House!"

"What? Fine! Please continue!" he huffed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Debra, I'm telling you! He is scared shytless!" Cameron told her as they broke into a fit of giggles. They were both sitting in Debra and Wilson's living room and she'd just relayed the story of their first class of LaMaze the week before. The two women were waiting for House and Wilson to go to dinner.

"Well, can't say as I blame him. But Jim wasn't nervous at all; he was actually more excited about it than I was," Debra told her as she reached out in front of her to the playpen Gregory was in and handed him the stuffed animal he'd thrown out of reach.

Cameron frowned when she heard Debra say she wasn't as excited as Wilson was about the birth; Debra seemed to pick up on it right away.

"Oh, it's just I had a lot to worry about…with my heart and all."

"That's right. I seem to keep forgetting." Cameron hesitated a moment, going back and forth whether she wanted to ask Debra what she was curious about. She felt she was close enough to Debra to broach the subject. "Debra, how is counseling going?"

"Oh, thank GOD!" Again, Cameron frowned, not understanding her reaction. Debra laughed then said, "Everyone has been carefully treading around me, wanting to know how I was but afraid to ask. Greg hasn't even been asking me, and we both know how nosy _he_ is."

The two women laughed when Debra's cell phone rang. She picked it up, looked at the number then closed the lid. They kept talking about expectations of having the baby when the land line phone rang. Debra didn't reach for it; it was as if she already knew who it was.

"Debra, I can go to the bathroom if you need privacy for…"

"No, no. Don't worry about it. It's nobody important."

A few seconds passed when the answering machine picked up and Debra's mother's voice was heard saying, _"Debra Lynn, it's Mom. Pick up!"_ She hesitated a moment. _"Look, I've got some bad news, honey. You need to call me. It's about Dad…he's…he's dead. Please, call as soon as you get this."_ The machine beeped and the message was over.

Just then the door creaked open and House bounded into the room, with Wilson following behind him.

"Hey, girls!" House said melodramatically.

Cameron glared at Wilson then threw her eyes to Debra as if he'd know what that meant; he didn't. House didn't even look at Debra but walked to Cameron and sat down. Wilson stopped right at the couch when he saw the expression on his wife's face. Debra had gone pale; paler than he had ever seen her, actually. Her eyes were glazed over and she seemed to be zoned out; her breathing was shallow, seemingly having difficulty taking a breath; her shoulders were slumped down beside her.

"Okay, little buddy – you know the drill!" House said as he leaned into Gregory's playpen and picked up a toy, with protests from the baby. "If you want the toy, you have to say, 'Uncle Greg!' Come on! You can say it. UNK-L GREHGG…"

"House…stop," Cameron told him urgently. When he looked at Cameron he knew something was wrong. He looked over at Debra and saw Wilson kneeling in front of her, smacking her face with no response.

"Debra, talk to me," Wilson pleaded as he tried to get her to focus on him. He felt her pulse through the vein on her wrist and was startled at the rapid throbbing. "Cameron, can you get her Nitro? It's in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom." Wilson grabbed Debra by her shoulder and gently pushed her back against the sofa; her body put up no resistance.

"Jmmmm"

Cameron had a little trouble getting up quickly enough so House went to get it. When he came back and handed the bottle to Wilson she looked even worse. Sweat was pouring down her forehead and her mouth hung open. Wilson poured one tablet into his palm and slid it under Debra's tongue.

"Let that dissolve, baby. Just relax…you'll pull through this."

House looked at Wilson waiting for an explanation. When he didn't get it he finally asked.

"It's an anxiety attack. Cameron, what happened?" She told the two about the call about her father.

"Oh, shyte," Wilson muttered.

Wilson continued to talk softly and lovingly to Debra as the medication started to take effect. She started to move her head a bit more and tried to lift her arms, mumbling the whole time, repeating House's first name over and over.

"Is this the first time she's…" House started to ask.

"No, it's not…Deb…come on, baby. Just follow my voice."

Finally, Debra focused on her husband looking at her frantically, terror in his face and eyes. "Jimmm? Mom…Dad…oh, god…"

"Breathe…take your time."

Debra's head felt like it was a Bobble doll, but the past few minutes seemed to show some kind of improvement from the Nitro-Glycerin. Her ears were ringing loudly, so loudly she could hear not a sound from the room, or House's voice from watching his lips move talking to Gregory; her heart pounded heavily in her chest; as if it were going to explode.

Wilson reached up and cupped his wife's face in his hand. "Okay, how are you doin'? You back with me?"

Debra didn't answer but nodded her head. "Need to go home…Dad…oh…"

"I know, Debra, I know. But not now. You need to lie down."

"No, NO! Mom needs me…"

"Debra, no! Listen to me! You are not in the shape…"

Suddenly, she bolted up from the couch and headed for the door. "You can't keep me…NO! Let GO of me!" she cried out.

Wilson had managed to grab Debra under her shoulders and pulled her from the door. He wrestled her to the floor, which was no easy feat considering her strength and his lack of knowing how strong she really was, and managed to straddle her waist, holding her arms up over her head. She was thrashing back and forth, kicking her feet and legs, making Wilson buck in the air, cursing at him and begging for him to get off of her. House calmly limped over to the pair, knelt on his knee, pulled a syringe out of his pocket and removed the cap.

"What the _hell_ is that? You're not giving her morphine!" Wilson said, still doing his best to keep her still.

"Oh, relax. It's a sedative," he said as he pushed the syringe into her arm, ignoring the angry yet confused look on Wilson's face.

By the time Wilson got Debra up and put her into the spare bed, he was completely exhausted. When he walked into the living room where Cameron and House were waiting for him, House held out a small glass of Whiskey and he eagerly downed it in one swallow then threw himself on the couch.

"She wants to talk to you before she goes out, House," Wilson said softly, so much so they barely heard him.

House stood and slowly went into the bedroom, where he found her staring up at the ceiling; the expression on her face blank. He quietly walked to the bed and sat down beside her.

"Hey," he said softly. "You scared the crap out of us."

She slowly turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were definitely glazed over, slowly closing then flying open as she fought the effects of the sedative. Her breathing was normal and she was finally very calm.

"Greg, I can'…I can't go…home…"

House was speechless; he didn't know what to tell her. He knew she should go, but then again, if it were his father, would _he_? He sure couldn't blame her.

"Deb, would you go if I went with you?"

She looked at him seriously and yawned, forcing herself to keep her eyes open, which were half shut now. "No, you shouldn't leave Allison."

"She'll be fine…"

"No, no." A sigh escaped her and she exhaled deeply, finally closed her eyes and kept them closed. "This isn't your problem," she said, her voice slurred.

_No, it's not my problem, but you can't do this alone. I know I sure as hell couldn't _House thought to himself.

"Debra, we'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Wha' abow' Momm?"

"I'll call her, okay? Just sleep."

She tossed her head as if that would keep her awake, but the drug kicked in the last few seconds and she finally drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly his hand hurt and he didn't know why. He looked down to see her hand clasping at his and holding it tight; so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. He watched her sleep for a few minutes before he stood and left her sleeping, returning to the living room.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Wilson said; his voice angry. "And why the hell did you have a sedative…"

"Mom called me before we left about Uncle George. I told her I'd tell Debra; over the phone sure wasn't the way to go. I guess Aunt Sharon got to her first."

Wilson threw his head back against the couch again, his eyes closed, his anger raging.

"And I knew she'd need something – well, I didn't. I was hoping I wouldn't have to use the sedative."

Wilson didn't open his eyes but nodded, as if he didn't care.

But he did care.


	17. Chapter 16

_Okay, this is a pivotal chapter!!! We finally get a grip of where House is coming from, or at least __I__ think so. Thanks for the reviews again…and again…and again. :o)_

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

After Debra had fallen asleep, Cameron put Gregory down for the night. House and Wilson discussed whether Debra should go to the funeral or not. House thought it should be up to her, while Wilson and Cameron thought she should go. If anyone would know what Debra was going through, it would be House. But that didn't appease Cameron or Wilson. Of course, House didn't go into any further detail, and the two didn't push it, either.

Wilson was emphatic about her not going alone, but there was no one to watch Gregory. Allison offered, but Wilson told her no because of her own pregnancy. Wilson asked House if he would go with her, and House used Cameron's pregnancy as an excuse, too, not mentioning his offer of going with her.

They went back and forth for an hour or so before House decided he'd go with her, and that Cameron should stay with Wilson. They'd only be gone a few days, and it shouldn't be a problem with Cuddy at all.

'Besides, I've got Cuddy wrapped around my little finger, anyway,' is what House told his two friends.

Wilson kicked his two friends out so he could be with Debra; House and Cameron went home so he could pack, and call his Aunt to tell her they'd be driving up the next day.

Of course, they didn't know whether she'd actually go or not. On one hand, she wanted to go; on the other, she was scared and didn't want to go. She'd been hurt, a lot, and didn't want to have to deal with it at all.

As it turned out, Debra had woken up in the wee hours of the morning and she and Wilson did talk about whether she wanted to go. After she attacked Wilson with every possible reason why she shouldn't go, she finally conceded.

Debra was still numb from the sedative, but they made love that night, at her request. It was the only thing that made her feel alive lately. It seemed lately he and Gregory were the only two reasons she had to live for.

She went to sleep later that morning with a hundred different scenarios in her head of what would happen, but none of them would come to pass. She was on her own, and would have to take it as it came to her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the drive northwest to Debra's parent's house, both House and Debra were quiet, with soft jazz filling the confinement of the car. Debra stared out the side window at the passing blur of trees while House stared absentmindedly out the window at the road. The two were in their own little worlds, going over their own little thoughts, rehashing their own little sucky childhoods.

"Debra, why didn't you ever come and talk to me?"

She hesitated a moment as she thought about it. "I don't know. I figured it would be more crap on your shoulders that you didn't need; you sure didn't need to worry about me." She wasn't sure if it was the truth but he bought it, or at least she hoped he did. "Besides, what would you have done? And would you have even believed me?"

House was quiet for several minutes. "Nothing, I suppose; I wouldn't have done anything. And _yes_, I would have believed you."

She sighed heavily before she continued. "I guess after a while I chalked it up to just a kid thinking something happened that didn't. But then it happened again and…" She was just rambling now, and she was instantly pissed at herself for letting that last part slip out. She avoided looking at him but just stared out the window. "No, the story I told you…wasn't the only time."

House rolled his eyes, shook his head and looked at her angrily. "What? Why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell the whole truth. Makes the conversation go by quicker."

"It's okay," House said; his voice soft and gentle. "He's gone now."

"Phht, that doesn't make it any easier."

"No, it doesn't."

"But Jeanne is helping me; I mean, I've seen her three times the past week – how could she not?" She hesitated again, debating whether she should ask the question. "You gonna talk to your dad?" House didn't answer; he just stared out the window. "Guess I was right."

He glanced at her confused. "About what?"

"When I was shot, remember? I told you to talk to your dad before it was too late. I knew you wouldn't, and it's definitely too late for me."

It was at least fifteen minutes before either of them spoke again, and it was House. "What good would it do?"

Debra had her head tilted back on the head rest with her eyes closed but she wasn't asleep. What good would what do?"

"To talk to my dad?"

"Bring closure?"

"Ah."

Debra laughed a little under her breath. "At least that's what Jeannie tells me." A few minutes went by then she asked, "You nervous?"

House didn't answer right away. "No."

"Liar."

"Yeah, I know."

"Let me know when you need a break from driving with your leg."

"No, your driving scares me."

"What? I've never driven with you."

"Oh, right." House cracked a smile then, but Debra didn't see it. She had other things on her mind.

"Greg, are you mad you didn't die?"

House was at first mad that she'd brought it up again, not that he knew why he was. He flashed her a look and she was looking at him now. He didn't want to answer, and he wasn't going to. "Are you?"

She glanced out of his side window and was silent for several minutes. "A little, I guess." Her voice trailed off as she thought about it.

House's voice was small and weak. "Yes, I was mad. I just felt…"

"…felt at peace with it all," she finished for him.

House nodded his head. "Yeah. It would have been easier."

"Easier to die? Yeah, it would have. But looking back on it now, I'm glad I was given a second chance."

"Is that what you think?"

She looked into his face again. "Yeah, of course. Ah, that's right. Wilson told me your great belief in religion, or lack thereof. Yeah, I was given a second chance. We all do stupid things and make stupid mistakes, but then one day it just dawns on you the blessings you _do_ have."

House thought for a minute. "And you didn't intentionally try to kill yourself with the anti-depressants?"

She shook her head. "No, I really didn't. Everything was going so great for me that the only thing I had left to think about was Dad and just wanted it to go away…oh, wait." House looked at her confused, as if she had a complete brain derailment and was talking about something else. "I get it, now."

"What?"

"The reason why you are so obsessed with your patients diagnosis-es – is that a word?" she said with a laugh. "…your rudeness with people to keep them away, you hiding, not dealing with your emotions…"

"I get it! I get it! Get to the point."

"It's your way of keeping your mind preoccupied about Uncle John."

He felt his face flush, his palms grew sweaty, and he was almost to the point of a very bad fit of nervous shaking. He gripped the wheel tighter, his elbows in a locked position, just staring blankly out the window.

If there were suddenly a tree that appeared right in front of the car, House would have hit it. He would have run right over it because he was blindsided, completely.


	18. Chapter 17

_Another long, emotional chapter, I'm afraid. Enjoy! Steph_

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Back in New Jersey, it was just past lunch and Cuddy was in the diagnostics room with Chase, Foreman and Cameron discussing a difficult case on a patient. It wasn't too difficult, though, as the blood tests showed the patient had Lupus, which is rare – not that Lupus is rare; it's rare they actually _had _a patient with Lupus.

Foreman stood and said he was going to go tell the patient and to start treatment, while Chase stood to go with him.

"Chase, can you stay a second?" Cameron asked as the door shut behind Cuddy and Foreman and he turned to look at her. "I just want you to know…" She hesitated a moment.

Chase looked at her blankly as he sat down in a chair across from her. "Know what?" he said, not mean or cruel or nasty, just matter-of-factly.

"I think you are really good with Gregory."

Chase's head flew back a tad as his eyelids flickered in surprise then frowned in confusion. "Okay, uh, thanks?" he asked, in more of a question than statement.

A smile crossed her lips, but that didn't comfort Chase any. "I just mean I think you'd be a good father."

"Okay – where did _that _come from?"

"No where. Things change, Robert, people change. I'm sorry about…you know. But when I see you with Gregory it's just…sweet – _you're_ sweet with him, and I know he adores you."

"He's a happy little tyke for a six-month old, almost seven."

"Yeah, he is." She stood and took a few steps closer to where he was sitting and leaned against the conference table. "I would have wanted more from you, really, but not then. I just wasn't ready for a relationship with anyone." Chase simply nodded his head in understanding. "And I would have wanted a ton of babies from you…wait, let me have this one first and then I'll get back to you on that."

They both laughed and Chase thanked her for what she'd said. He stood to give her a friendly hug when an expression of excruciating pain crossed her face then she grabbed her swollen stomach and bent over a little, softly moaning.

"Cam…eron – what is it?"

"I…don't…just a sharp…" She bent over more as if she was going to fall to the ground, but Chase caught her and eased her into a chair.

He called Wilson on his cell phone and he was there in two seconds. While he was talking to Cameron he called for a wheelchair to take her to an exam room.

"Allison…is it a contraction?"

"I…don't know."

When the nurse brought in the wheelchair and the two men helped her up to get in it, Chase gasped at what he saw in the chair she was just sitting in: blood. He looked up at Wilson who shook his head, as if to say, 'Don't say anything.' She was wheeled into an exam room where Dr. Crooks could evaluate her.

Wilson stayed with Cameron in the room, holding her hand at her side, at her request, while she was being examined. The look on her face was mixed with fear and pain as Dr. Crooks did so, then announced he was finished.

"Dr. Crooks, is the baby okay?" she asked, her voice was full of fear and very shaky from nerves.

"Yes, the baby is fine, Allison."

There was a collective sigh in the room.

"What happened?"

Dr. Crooks took off the surgical gloves and pushed her knees together, draping the cloth over her legs again and told her to relax.

"There was a little tear at the cervix that caused blood to seep through; it didn't affect the embryonic sack at all, which is good news. You might have a few more spasms, but if there is a lot more blood than what you had, call me immediately. And I think I'm going to want to see you every week, just to be sure."

Cameron nodded her head and sighed heavily with relief. "Okay, good. Thanks."

Wilson left the room while Cameron got dressed and opened the door to the exam room to meet him. Wilson stood with her as she made her next appointment with Dr. Crooks and they walked the halls back to her office.

"Cameron, you should stay with me tonight."

She stopped at the elevator and pressed the 'up' button. "No, I'll be f…" She grabbed her stomach, but was in a lot less pain than before. "…fine." The doors opened and they got on; Cameron turned and looked at Wilson. "Okay, that might not be a bad idea, but you have to promise me you'll say _nothing _to him."

"Wha'…why? He'll want to know."

"I know…I know. I'm not doing it to be mean." The doors opened and they walked out, continuing down the hall. "He doesn't need to worry about me, or the baby. Everything is fine."

"Are you…"

"Yes! I'm sure."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Debra Lynn House Wilson stared down at the body of her father in the navy blue silk-lined cloth that his body was lying on. She was emotionless, thoughtless, numb and empty inside. Not a single tear fell from her eyes. Her mother stood next to her with her arms around her, but Debra stood completely still with her arms stiff at her side.

It was the following day, two days after her father died, and it was the family's first private viewing of the body before the public viewing the next evening. Sharon's sisters and brother were there to support their sister. Debra's brother, Mark, was in the other corner of the room talking to the funeral director. House was also there, but he chose to stand in the back of the room to give immediate family time with his Uncle.

House felt for the syringe in his side pocket just in case Debra got out of control again, which was up in the air as far as he was concerned. He had no way of knowing what to expect from her at this trying time in her life. He'd told his Aunt Sharon he had it, although he thought it was stupid he did. But with Debra's heart condition she was at risk of a heart attack if she stressed herself out too much.

The night before, House greeted his mother lovingly, who had arrived earlier that morning to be with Sharon. House was indeed clearly tense, and gave his condolences to his aunt. He was dreading to see his father, and his heart beat fast and hard in his chest. Blythe explained his father wouldn't be coming in for the funeral, but he would be there for the burial. House was relieved; greatly relieved. Another unwanted crisis averted, for the time being, anyway.

Debra, on the other hand, was distant, cold, quiet and detached from everything around her when they first arrived at their house, and not from tiredness of the drive. House watched her with an eagle's eye for any signs she was in danger – and by 'danger' I mean possible heart attack from the stress.

Her mother was inconsolable but Blythe was there to console her, and Debra stayed as far away from facing her emotions as she could. She hadn't even really talked with her mom about the justification for ignoring their only daughter, which was fine with Debra. She spent most of the night on the patio deck, smoking too much and thinking too much.

"Those things will kill ya," House said as he sat in the lawn chair across from her. She looked up at him and gave him a cold stare. "Give me one."

She blinked a few times and handed him the pack with lighter. Debra hadn't smoked cigarettes since she first found out she was pregnant and he didn't have the heart to chastise her when he saw her hiding a cigarette when he came out of the restroom at one of the potty breaks.

They didn't talk; they didn't move; they didn't cry. They just stayed there for the other just in case one of them needed to say something. Neither one of them did. House dodded on her as if she were a fragile five-year old; he was trying to protect her, something he didn't do when they were younger. He wasn't there for her then, but he was there for her now.

Back in the funeral home, as Sharon and Debra looked over the body of their husband and father, Sharon lost herself and burst into tears. Blythe came and lead her away, leaving Debra standing there alone. Now House saw his opportunity to be there for her. He slowly limped up to her, his right leg screaming in pain. He'd forgotten to take a pill before they went into the room, but he swore to himself he'd take one in a few minutes. He stood directly beside her and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly; not that he needed to but to let her know he was there without having to say it.

After what felt like a century she said, "I hate him." House nodded his head. "I really, really _hate_ him."

House was clueless – completely lost as to what to say. He just stared at her, watching her face. He noticed her neck and collarbone area was red and splotchy, a House family trait they both seemed to have inherited; and House knew she was boiling up inside. When he was nervous or uncomfortable or unusually stressed, his own chest would break out.

"I _hate_ him for what he did to me," she said; her voice a little louder and filled with genuine loathing of the man.

Before House could react, she lurched forward and struck his chest once, hard. The cold body seemed to echo throughout the room, although that didn't really happen. She didn't strike him again right away so House didn't hold her back.

"BSTARD!" she screamed; her voice filled with hatred as deep as any cavern could ever hold.

With her left fisted hand she hit him again, followed by her right hand. She screamed at him while she continued to hit him, cursing at what he did to her and saying she was glad he was dead.

House was completely taken aback at her reaction; he sure wasn't expecting that to happen. He noticed movement coming up from behind her; it was her brother, Mark, and another man he didn't know.

"Hold her down," House said to the men as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the syringe.

Mark and the man had trouble getting a hold of her to pull her back from the casket because her arms were flailing in front of her, striking out at an invisible object and screaming, kicking at the casket with her feet. The funeral director approached the scene but House shook his head, telling him to stay away. The two men finally got her down on the carpeted floor and held her arms behind her, while Mark sat on her kicking legs.

"Don't touch me…no, Greg…_damnit_…I don't want…let me GO!" she cried out but to no avail.

Another man held Debra's arm still while House injected the sedative into her arm. House stood up and waited for it to take effect, which to him seemed too long.

"Sir, we have a private lounge you can take her to lie down," the funeral director offered, asking House.

"No, Sam. Thanks. Greg, can you take her back home? We still have a few things to discuss," Mark said, referring to Sam.

Debra's body seemed to deflate a bit as he said, "Sure, but there's no way I'd be able to carry her…"

"Oh, oh, of course. Sorry. Steve, can you go with him?" The other man that was holding her arm down nodded his head.

A few minutes later, a calm and sedated Debra sat in the back of the car leaning against House, her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed, but she wasn't completely out of it yet.

"Gawd…tha' fel' goooood," she mumbled barely above a whisper. House leaned in his head so his ear was closer to her mouth so he could hear her.

"Yeah?" was all House could think of to say.

"Yeah."

She was quiet for a moment when he felt her body shiver and she gave a crying-hiccup. He looked closer into her face and saw she indeed had several tears running down her cheeks. He lifted his arm above her head, slid it over her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Her head sank into his chest by his armpit and she wailed.

She wailed for a good five minutes before she finally passed out. But she wasn't wailing for the loss of her father. She was wailing for all the pent-up stress she held inside her for almost 42 years, and now was cleansed of the hatred she let escape onto her father.

_Good, that's the best thing for her. Just sleep it off, Debra. Just sleep it off. Dream happy thoughts. That's all you can do. 'Cuz sometimes reality sucks, and now is one of those times._


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Debra walked into the living the next morning in a drunken stupor; her socked feet scooted along the floor, as if she could barely find the strength to lift them and take a step. Her eyes were dark, red, swollen, half open – she looked like a woman that was coming off of a meth high with a side order of cocaine – her hair was matted on top of her head and fell down onto her shoulders in a bird's nest mess; her shoulders were slumped down farther than they should have been and she was wearing the same clothes as the night before, which were extremely wrinkled.

She sauntered into the living room oblivious to the people that were sitting there: House, her brother Mark and a woman she didn't know, who were drinking coffee.

"How are you feeling, Deb?" Mark asked. "There's fresh coffee…"

But Debra didn't hear him. She walked past them all in the direction of the kitchen, which was her main goal anyway. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. She walked by the small kitchen table and knicked her outer thigh, but she was oblivious of that, too.

She grabbed a cup from the cabinet above the coffee machine and filled the cup, with excess coffee running off the side. She turned around to walk to the table when she noticed a body standing in the doorway, a cup in hand; his head tilted, watching her closely. She pulled a chair out and sat down, ignoring the person until she had several sips of the caffeine jolt she so desperately needed.

After a minute or so she said, "You know what? I'm getting _real_ tired of you knocking me out. Just because you're a doctor doesn't mean you can keep me drugged up." She put her hand in her palm, elbow on the table, and looked at him for the first time. "What time is it?"

"8:30." House tried not to smile, to avoid any misunderstanding she might have of it. He sat down across from her and sipped his own coffee. "What can I say? I have access to the good stuff, so, why not?" This time, Debra's left corner of her mouth rose just a bit, and it was a sign to House she'd be alright, well, for the moment, anyway. "You going to the funeral this afternoon?"

She didn't answer right away but looked deeply into the mug, as if that carried all the answers to the universe. "No idea."

"Deb – I'm going to say something, and I'll never say it again, but always know this, okay?" She looked up at him with concern at first, but when she saw the expression on his face it died. She nodded her head. "You know I've got your back, right?"

This time, both corners of her mouth rose and she gave him a smile, sans bearing of teeth, but it was a smile, and a start. He smiled back.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Scooter."

"You're welcome, Thumper. Where did we come up with those stupid nicknames, anyway?" House asked.

"There not stupid," she defended.

"Are too."

"Are not! They're cute!"

"I don't _do _cute," House shot back, seemingly the same old argument they always had.

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Ah-huh infinity…oh, hi, Uncle John." Her eyes darted to the doorway and saw House's father standing there.

Instantly, the playful, teasing, happy smile on House's face disappeared and his face morphed into a sagging old man; his eyes darted down at the table as if he didn't hear what he just heard.

"Save any coffee for me?" John asked, not saying a word to his son, but he did look at him, disapprovingly.

"Of course, help yourself," Debra told him.

John poured himself a cup and turned around, leaning against the counter. "Where's your mother, Greg?"

He hesitated a moment before he looked up, but not directly at his father, and said, "She's still in with Aunt Sharon."

"Mom had trouble sleeping last night, I guess. I woke up to use the bathroom and checked in on her; Aunt Blythe was with her," Debra told him.

"How's she taking it?" John asked.

_How in the HELL do you think she's taking it, you MORON?! _Debra thought, and as she did so she looked at House, who seemed to have the same thought running through his head.

"Well, I'm going to go check in on her. They should be up," Debra said as she stood, gave her Uncle John a quick hug and a glance at House, whose eyes were pleading with her to stay.

House instantly tensed, and no amount of Vicodin or tranquilizer or morphine would calm him down. He still didn't look at his dad, even when he sat down in the chair across from him.

"How have you been, son? I see you have a new cane. Flashy!" John said in a genuinely caring voice.

_Oh, God. Now he's trying to play 'cool dad.'_

"I've been fine."

"How's that pretty young thing you've been messing with?" he asked, meaning Cameron.

His eyes shot up with hatred in his eyes, and it scared the crap out of House. The last time he gave his father 'the look' he spent a week off LaCrosse with a bruised leg.

"Fine." He pulled out the bottle of Vicodin and popped two in his mouth, followed by a mouthful of coffee, like that was going to wash away the fact that his father was sitting across from him, one on one.

"Greg, I've got something I need you to give to Debra."

House looked at John with confusion. "Why don't you give it to her yourself?"

"Because your Mom and I discussed it, and we know how attached she is to you and thought it'd be better if…look, it was given to your mother by Sharon."

His look of confusion only grew deeper. "Why? She could talk to her own daughter."

"No, no, she can't. Just give it to her, will you, and stop arguing with me?"

John handed House a sealed envelope, which was very thin, as if only one piece of paper were in it. He sighed, took it from his father's hand and set it on the table beside him.

"Fine."

John scrutinized his son more and said, "Seems there's hardly any scar left on your neck. 'Fore you know it you'll be a walking scar stick. When was the last time you had a solid meal?"

House's mind was blank, but he heard his father's words. He stood up so abruptly the chair went flying out from behind him and banged against the wall.

"Don't start!"

House stormed out of the kitchen, his blood pressure soaring to almost stroke level and walked out onto the front porch.

_Big mistake…I shouldn't have come…regardless if Debra needed me or not. No see, no harm._


	20. Chapter 19

_**WARNING: the F word is in here a few times, but I wouldn't rate it a –M- as it isn't pertaining to sex.**_

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

"Hi, Allison!" House said cheerily as he was talking to Cameron on the cell phone.

"Hey. How's it going?"

"Fine; we're on our way home now. We should be home by, like, 4ish."

"Okay, great. Wilson and I will have an early dinner ready for you."

"Lasagna?"

"No, Chinese."

"Okay, even better."

"Is Debra okay?"

House turned to look at his cousin, who was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out blankly at the front windshield. "Fine."

"Wilson's missing her."

"What? He didn't hit up on you, did he?"

"Shut up, House. Of course not. I miss you, too."

"Yeah, me too. You owe me."

"Uh, yeah, I know you owe me, BIG! See you when you get here."

"'Kay."

An hour had passed since House called Cameron on his cell phone, an hour and a half since they left Debra's parents' house, and they were on their way home to New Jersey. House was driving and the two cousins barely said a word to each other. House wasn't expecting her to be her normal talkative self, and he was fine with that. He had his own worries to think about.

His father never chased him from the kitchen when he stormed out, which was fine with him. As a matter of fact, John only spoke to House when he needed to the whole 24 hours they were in the midst of the other, which also was fine with him. What wasn't fine with him was when they left earlier that morning – after they'd eaten a full breakfast at a restaurant – as he was shaking his father's hand John leaned in and said, "I'm sorry."

Those two words tore through House as if a tornado came through and ripped out his heart. But his head, oh, that was another matter entirely. Two simple words from 47 years of his father's cruelness, harshness, coldness, just didn't seem to do it for him. Too little, too late.

But then he looked over at his cousin, who sat zoned out, no sedative required, and a thought came to him: Debra never heard those words from her father. He didn't know if it was a good thing or bad thing.

Then he thought of the afternoon of her father's funeral. She didn't shed a tear; she'd smile weakly at whoever was giving their condolences, of course, but she never cried. She clung onto House like a three-year old afraid to be left alone at a family reunion. And he was okay with it.

He thought of her reaction when her mother told her he had died of prostate cancer, but that didn't even elicit a tear from her. And House thought _he _was cold and callous.

But the letter caught the better of him and was curious as hell as to what was in it. When Debra whispered she had to go to the bathroom, they stopped at the first rest area they passed. He watched her as she walked into the ladies room, and thought it'd be best if she read it now, now that they were away from her parents' house. And also, if she became hysterical, she wouldn't grab the steering wheel and inadvertently hit a semi and kill them both.

He stepped out of the car, grabbed his cane and the letter from his jacket in the back, locked it and walked to the nearest picnic table. Just as he downed two Vicodin she walked out and he called out for her. She came over, confusion on her face as to why he was sitting there.

"Needed to stretch my leg," he told her, as if reading her mind. They did that a lot. She sat on the picnic table beside him, not even caring there was actually a bench to sit on.

After a long silence, House pulled out the envelope and handed it to Debra. She looked at it curiously then looked up at him.

"It's from…actually, I don't know."

"You read it," she said, looking away.

"Deb…I don't think I should."

"Just read the damn thing, will you?!"

House sighed, peeled away the seal and opened the letter. It was hand-typed in small print, with handwritten print at the top. House cleared his throat and read that first.

'_He was too proud, honey. I hope you understand now. Love you, Mom.'_

Debra stared out at the grass below their feet, emotionless.

'_My dearest little girl, The reason why we never came to visit was because of this damned illness; I was diagnosed right after Christmas. I begged your mother not to tell you because, well, I don't know why. The chemo and radiation was pretty rough and…'_

"Great! Now the bstard wants my sympathy? Jerk."

House didn't look up at her but continued to read.

'…_and I didn't want you to see your old man like this. I fought it hard, real hard, for you, and only for you. I couldn't bear the thought…I just didn't want you to cry. I didn't want you to worry about me. I was protecting you…'_

"Protecting me, my ass! Who was protecting ME when he was…"

House ignored her little side comments, because if he were her, he'd probably do the same thing and continued to read to hold back what he knew was coming.

'…_oh, honey, I loved you, still love you, as I cling on for my last breath…'_

"Little dramatic, don't you think?" she said coldly.

'…_I'm thinking of you. I only wished I could have seen Gregory. But you never sent pictures or…doesn't matter. I'll see him soon enough. I'll always watch after him, as I'll watch after you. And I know I haven't said it often enough, or even once for that matter, but I'm so, so very proud of you for what you've accomplished in your life.'_

Debra was still, so still they could hear the crickets under the picnic table brush their wings together in search of a mate, without producing their tell-tale signs of calling. House stopped and looked at her, her face, her breathing, anything that might tell him she was about to lose it. But, she appeared fine, or more like not about to go beserk.

'_I wished I'd told you. But, by the time you read this, I'll be gone. I hope you remember the good times, angel, because I always made sure you had them. I wanted you to be happy, and I want you to be happy now..now that I'm gone. All I can say is I hope you can forgive me. With all my love, Dad.'_

House looked at her, still expecting her to say something or lash out or curse. But she was calm.

"Okay, you've read it. Let's go home." Her voice was calm, not shaky, not angry.

House's head flew back in surprise at her nonchalance and watched her step off the table and take a few steps to the walkway.

"Debra, wait," he called out, grabbing his cane and catching up to her. "What…what's going on? You have nothing to say to that?"

She stopped and turned to look at him, this time with anger written all over her face and her eyes piercing with hatred. "What the fuck am I supposed to say? Oh, I forgive you, Daddy. It's okay, Daddy. I _love_ you too, Daddy? Screw that!"

She took a few more steps away from him but he caught her arm and whirled her around. "Scream at me…take it out on me…but DON'T hold it in."

"Fuck you, Greg!"

House dropped his cane and grabbed both shoulders, shaking her so hard her head tilted back a bit. "DON'T YOU DARE tell me to fuck off! YOU were the one to tell me I should talk to my own father. YOU were the one that said I had to face my fears! And what the hell are you doing now?"

House was shocked at himself for the words that came out of his mouth, but he meant them, every single word.

"Let go of me…you're _hurting _me!"

"No, I won't! I'm _glad_ I'm hurting you! At least I'd know you still have a heart, Debra!"

She looked at him with squinted eyes, with hatred, anger, hurt, wanting to kick him where she'd kicked her father when she was a child. And she tried. But he was ready for it. With his right hand he pushed her to him, and with his left pushed her away, resulting in her spinning around. He put his arms around her upper arms and pressed down, making her fall to her knees. He kept a tight grip on her and held her there.

"Greg, STOP IT! You're…"

And then he felt it. Her body shook, she rolled forward so that her forehead was almost touching the ground and a loud cry burst out of her mouth. She finally cried; a hard, heart-wrenching sob that drowned out every footstep around them.

He got down on his knee and held her, rocked her, and just let her cry until she had her fill.

A man and a woman walked by and asked if they needed help. He turned them down.

"No, she's just upset she missed ER last night."


	21. Chapter 20

_**From here on out I've had to do some research on being pregnant, and with a little advice from Teddi-Thanks! **_

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

"I was finally able to get her in the car, and she cried for another half hour before she fell asleep for the rest of the drive."

House and Cameron were sitting on the couch in House's apartment – well, House was but Cameron was sitting on the ottoman, rubbing his thigh until the muscles relaxed, what was left of them – and telling her about the rest of the drive home.

House had 'trained' Cameron how to massage his thigh, and on special occasions she would give him a full-body massage, but not now because she couldn't straddle him the most comfortable way with her belly as big as it was.

"I think she needs to sleep for two days; it'll really help her."

House looked at her curiously. "Why do you say that?"

She stopped massaging his thigh and looked at him. "That's what I did after my husband died."

"Ah." He laid his head on the back cushion and closed his eyes. "Man, I don't think I've ever been this tired before. Debra said she felt bad for not helping, but I knew she wasn't in any type of shape to drive."

Cameron started to massage his leg again but really wanted to talk about his dad and what happened between them, but she knew that was a sore issue and didn't want to press him. "Oh, hey, I had a little trouble the other day," she said, her voice soft so as not to alarm him but it didn't work.

"What – What happened?" His eyes flew open and he picked his head up off the cushion. "Are you ok? Is the baby ok?"

She smiled. "Yes, yes. It's just…there was a little blood…" She stopped working on his leg again, stood up and sat next to him on the couch.

"Cameron, tell me!"

"Dr. Crooks said it was normal. The baby just dropped, you remember in class – the lightening. It's just sooner than we expected."

"Does that mean you'll go into premature labor?"

"No, no. I asked that, too. He said it was normal for first-time mothers."

"I thought you were a doctor?" she teased, leaning into him and pushing him with her shoulder.

"I am. I just never had the necessity to know about the problems with pregnancy." House relaxed a bit and leaned back into the cushion. "This is all so…weird."

Cameron frowned and smacked his stomach. He yelped, bent his body up and rubbed it. "Weird? Thanks, Greg!"

"No, I didn't mean it that way…"

"What way? How did you mean it? I'm having your child – what's so _weird _about that?"

"Honey, look, I'm tired and I just need sleep…"

"Oh, _darlin'_," she said, the nickname came out with a stinger attached to it, as she sat up and stared him down. "You don't know what tired is until you've gained 30 pounds, your face bloats the size of the Good Year Blimp, your legs and feet swell so much they hurt, you can't stand the thought of food because you know you'll get heartburn, you can't sleep on your stomach and you constantly wake yourself up in the middle of the night because…"

"Allison?" She shot daggers at him for interrupting her. "I love you," he said sweetly, a warm smile on his face – not that he didn't mean it; he just hoped it would calm her down so she'd stop attacking him.

"Oh, BITE ME!" she yelled, awkwardly standing up and huffed to the bedroom, but she didn't close the door.

_Oh, crap, Wilson warned me about this. Our first fight and it's because her hormones are sky high. Hormones, gotta love 'em._

House put his hands on his knees to stand up and go talk to her, but in mid-rise he was struck with a pillow bouncing off of his face and a blanket thrown next to him.

"Tell me how weird it is sleeping on the couch!" she screamed, turned on her heels and stomped back to their bedroom, slamming the door, immediately followed by a 'click' of the lock on the door.

"Oh, great."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wilson tilted his head up and back to get a glimpse of Debra, who was holding him in the tightest bear hug she'd ever given him. "Deb…you asleep yet?"

"Yeah."

He chuckled under his breath and turned his body to face her, and as a result her head found its way onto his chest, her arm sprawled across his waist with her hand up just under his arm and she threw her leg over his.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, brushing the hair out of her face lovingly.

"Yeah." She buried her head deeper and held onto him tighter.

"Oh, hey…what's wrong?" She frowned; her eyes still closed and asked what he was talking about. "You're just holding me so tight – that's all. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House was sleeping peacefully on the couch, the same night Cameron kicked him out of the bedroom – okay, she didn't kick him out, but she wouldn't let him sleep in the same bed as her. She'd woken up in the middle of the night and had to use the bathroom. She felt so awful for the way she treated him she went to get him to come back to bed with her.

She slowly walked up to the couch and smiled; she hoped their baby was just a gorgeous as he was, minus the beard if it was a girl. She took a few more steps, trying to be careful not to stub her toe on the corner legs, but unfortunately failed.

DEEP THUD…CRACK

"OW, damnit…chhhhh" she cursed, fell on the couch and grabbed her big toe, with difficulty, of course.

"Huh…Angelina…is that you?" House sat up and looked at Cameron. "Oh, it's you," he said meanly, but playfully.

"Shhht up…ow…" She rocked back and forth, as if that would take the pain away, her eyes became misty with tears she was trying to hold back.

"Let me see, let me see," House asked, reaching out for her to hand him her foot, but she didn't. "Oh, come on! I heard you coming in – you flushed the toilet, remember?" He scooted closer to be next to her to get a better look at her toe.

"No, you can't see it – it's _your…_ow!...fault," she said, very seriously. "I think…it's bro…ken."

"Allison Cameron! Stop your bitching and give me your freakin' foot!" he fussed at her, reached out his hand and waited for it to magically appear in it.

Cameron's head kicked back and shook, like someone slapped her across the face. Tears started to really weld up in her eyes then and the fullness of her bottom lip started to shake, doing her best to hold back her first major pregnancy-I-want-it-out-of-me-now! cry.

"Oh, Allison…" House said affectionately, his voice three octaves softer. "…I'm sorry. Don't cry," he whispered, putting his arm around her and waited to see if she'd accept it by leaning into him.

"I'm NOT gonna cry!" she wailed, then all hell broke loose and she broke down, crying into her hands.

Regardless whether Cameron wanted House's arm around her, he kept it there anyway, holding onto her. He laughed, but it wasn't a facetious laugh; he thought it was just so darn _cute_.

"Stawwwp…laughing…add…me," she cried, wiping the tears from her face but continued to look down at her feet, which were now planted firmly on the area rug under the couch.

"I'm not laughing."

"Yes…you are!"

He tried his best to stifle his giggling fit, but he couldn't control it for long. "No, Cameron, I _swear_ I'm not…laughing." And of course he burst out giggling – what did you expect?

"This…sucks! I can't remember anything for shyte; I dropped two bags of groceries that I refused to have Wilson help me with; I'm nauseous 36-hours a day and now I broke my toe."

House started to rock her back and forth, his right hand slid down to her waist from her back, his left hand held her left knee, and he held onto her tighter. The silk maternity nightgown he'd bought her brushed softly against his hand as he rubbed her side; his forehead was against her ear and he whispered softly it, although she couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Should I call a doctor?" House asked, very clearly and very playfully.

At that, Cameron laughed. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sat back against the cushion, an expression of shame and guilt on her face. "Greg, I…I'm sorry…"

"Don't, you don't have to apologize. Wilson warned me…"

House instantly regretted saying those three words; he waited for two over-sized pregnant fists aim at his face and pummel him, but that didn't happen. Instead, she smiled, and laughed, and cry-hiccupped and grabbed his hand.

"I didn't think the hormone thing would be this bad."

"Hey, look on the bright side – you only have seven-and-a-half weeks to go!"

"Oh, great. That makes me feel sooo much better!"

They laughed for a few minutes as Cameron let House hold her, and when she grew drowsy she told him she was ready to go back to bed. She stood up, tested her toe, determined she could walk on it and that it wasn't broken, and headed for the bedroom. She assumed he was right behind her; he wasn't. She turned back around sharply and asked why he wasn't coming with her.

"I'm afraid you'll throw something at me again," House said, a grin on his face.

She walked back to him, held out her hands, which he accepted, and she helped him stand.

"No, I think I'll save another throw for a time when _you _do something wrong, which_ will_ eventually happen."

Without waiting for House to kiss her, she pulled him toward the bedroom door, a wicked grin growing wider and wider on her lips.

"Oh, yes! I know what that grin means!"

"No, it _doesn't_ mean I'm going to give you any. It means I have indigestion." They just reached the arch of the doorway and she continued to pull him in, toward the bed.

"That only works for babies, not pregnant women."

"Oh, darn. I thought that would work. Oh, well. Guess you'll just have to make love to me, then."

Just as she said that, House whirled her around and gently set her on the bed, their legs in a scissor position and he lay next to her and she got comfortable on her back.

"Allison, you know I don't make love…I have sex…"

She shut him up by placing a hard, passionate, tongue-searching, lip-smacking kiss on him, hungrily pressing her body against his.

House broke their kiss and was barely able to say, "I...make love."

And they did. That night, after two days apart and the raging hormones of a pregnant woman, Dr. Gregory House made hot, explosive, affectionate, lust-filled love to Dr. Allison Cameron.

And they fell asleep in each other's arms, content with the world. As always, for Cameron; and for the time being for House.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wilson felt like the worst weasel in the world after promising Debra he'd never leave her. Why did he make such a promise he wasn't sure if he could keep? His thoughts raced back to earlier that morning…

"No, no. It can't be…I'll run 'em again."

An hour later…

"No! Damnit!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N: Just when you thought all was well in Princeton-ville, you discover it's not!_

_Duh-dum-dum-duh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

The next day, Wilson walked into House's office and looked in the diagnostics room; the triplets weren't there. He was greatly relieved. House had looked up at him but didn't say anything. Wilson sat down in the chair across from him and sat there, his eyes staring at the back of his desk.

"What's going on?"

"I've got 39-year old patient with Familial Peutz-Jeghers syndrome," Wilson told House forlornly.

"Has it turned into cancer?"

"Yes, stage II."

House squinted his eyes and looked at Wilson closely. "And you're telling me this be-caawws…?"

"I need your team to do a colonoscopy."

"And your doctor can't give you one be-caawws?"

"I want your team to do it."

House sat back hard against the back of the chair and frowned, causing the usual three deep wrinkles to appear just above the center of his eyebrows when his brain surged into thinking mode. House hated these types of games, especially with a friend. But then again, Wilson had never really played games with House – well, he had, but nothing to this extend. House already figured out where Wilson was going and he didn't like it. But he knew how difficult it was for Wilson to actually come to him asking for help, so he'd play along with it until Wilson could get it out.

"And you want my team to do it be-caawws?"

"Because it's ME!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wilson walked into his living room that night after work and felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to tell Debra, but he knew he'd have to. He just wanted to get it over with. He walked into Gregory's bedroom and saw Debra sitting in the rocking chair with the sleeping baby in her arms. He smiled at her in the doorway, and she smiled back.

After Wilson picked up Gregory and placed him in the crib, the two went into the living room. Debra sat on the couch expecting Wilson to join her, but first Wilson poured himself a shot of Whiskey and downed it quickly, setting the glass back down a little harder than he expected and almost broke it. He turned to look at Debra, and by that time she was alarmed.

"James, what's wrong? We've had that Whiskey for a year as a house-warming gift and that's the first…"

When she saw the expression on his face, she knew it was bad. Immediately she grew worried. She stood up and approached him, putting her arms out to hug him. But he grabbed her wrists and told her to sit down, which they both did. She reached out her hand to his forearm and waited, impatiently. He shook his head and look at the wall behind her, not able to look into her eyes.

"Debra, when Gregory was born I was petrified there would be something wrong with him…"

"Oh, my god. Is it Grego…"

"No, no." He had to take a deep breath to continue. "I was worried because when I was born I had dark freckles around my lips and brown spots in my mouth. I checked out Gregory thoroughly when I first got my hands on him. He's fine. I checked him out because I had them when I was born. I've been tested every few years for the gene. In my family the polyps were never discovered until they were in late mid-forties, so I'm surprised I already have them."

"What was it?"

"Symptoms of… Peutz-Jeghers syndrome, PJS. It's a hereditary disease that my father has, and every male in my family had…and/or died of."

The intake of breath escaped Debra's mouth and Wilson looked at her for the first time. "Of what?" she asked nervously.

Wilson kept talking, diverting his eyes again, not listening to her. "PJS is a condition where polyps form in the intestinal track, stomach, among other areas. Granted, my father is still living, who's 62 and he's never had it but my grandfather…"

"I thought you said your Dad has it."

Wilson impatiently nodded his head then shook it, as if getting the words back together in his head. "He has it, yes, but my grandfather died from it."

"James! Will you stop beating around the bush and just TELL me!"

"My grandfather died of colon cancer."

And it all sank in. She tightened the grip on his forearm and she felt him pull back a little. "You've got colon cancer?" It came out more of a statement than a question, but she'd finally asked him.

He looked at her and put his hand over hers, squeezing it tight. "Yes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hee-hee-hoooo…hee-hee-hoo."

"Oh, god…that expression is what got us in trouble in the first place!"

"Yeah, and it was _your_ fault, and it was _your_ face!"

"Yeah, well, you do that to me."

House and Cameron were sitting on a mat in LaMaze class again, practicing the breathing method she'd use during labor pains in the delivery room. It was the last class before she would deliver the baby, and she had four weeks left. The soon-to-be-parents were ready, and everything had gone so smoothly with the pregnancy that they were able to cope with the life-threatening problem with their friend.

Wilson had a sigmoidoscopy a week earlier, which showed there were indeed polyps, multiple ones, in the muscle walls of his colon, a sure sign of cancerous polyps. They were biopsied for cancer, and they came back positive, Stage II. At the moment, while House and Cameron were in class, he was having most of his colon removed.

Wilson explained to Debra the procedure as gently as he could, but there was no easy way for anyone to tell a person they might die. And although Wilson was an oncologist, it was three times harder than he expected when he was referring to himself. Then after his surgery, he told her he'd need to have a colostomy, which creates an opening in the abdomen for stool, or feces, to be drained from the large intestine, or colon. He assured her that in 90 percent of the cases it was successful. No chemo, no radiation – just check-ups every six months.

That didn't seem to comfort Debra at all.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Okay, the next chapter is the fateful day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAMERON HAS HER BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or, should I say the devil's spawn? lol_


	23. Chapter 22

_**Here is a really, really long chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But PLEASE don't be mad with me!! You'll understand when you read the last of the chapter. **_

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

"13 Days – 4:17 pm, boy"

Cameron read those words on a piece of paper she received in the mail, actually it was House's mail. This was the third letter she'd gotten, and she recognized the handwriting every time. The first one she got she laughed and just chucked it in the trash, paying them no mind. The second letter she got – same time, same sex, 14 Days – she frowned, finding no humor in it at all. This time she was started to get angry after she suddenly realized what House had done.

"Chase, Foreman, did House bet you guys the date and time of the baby's birth?" she asked them, peering suspiciously at them from the desk in the corner.

"No," Chase answered, giving her a quick glance before resorting back to the magazine he was reading.

"Nu-uh," Foreman said, not even looking up at her.

"Liars!" she huffed, through the paper in the trash and stood up, slowly. Her back had started to bother her the past few days, as well as having to go to the bathroom every thirty minutes.

Cameron was due in approximately 14 days, and the baby had dropped a few days earlier. She was having trouble walking, and was forced to wear sneakers with her maternity dresses because heels at that stage of pregnancy were impossible. She was scheduled to take off the last week of the predicted due date.

They had discussed baby names, and House had almost agreed to Alexander, but then the next day refused to even consider it. He wanted Wolfgang, as in Wolfgang Amaedus, and Cameron told House that there was no way in hell she would name her child that. They almost agreed on Lucy if it was a girl, after House's latest crush, Lucy Lui, but House refused to even accept that it might be a girl.

Cameron stormed into House's office, where he was on the computer playing Zuma, and was very close to sinking the last ball, fighting to keep the other balls in play by sending the proper color to disintegrate them.

"House! This isn't funny!" she hollered, waving the piece of paper at him, making him jump, which ruined his concentration, and lost his turn.

"Darnit! I told you not to bother me when I'm playing!"

"Tough," she said, sitting down on the couch, not even bothering to sit in the chair at his desk.

House looked at her and frowned, wondering why she did so. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Are you just pissed we didn't get you in the pool for the baby's happy arrival? Half of the hospital has their money in it."

"Are you serious? Oh, I should have known."

"Hun, what's wrong, really?"

Cameron looked up at him because he didn't call her 'hun' or 'baby' or 'sweetie' unless he was really concerned about something.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Scared, I guess."

"Good."

She frowned at him. "Why 'good'?"

"Because – if you weren't you wouldn't be ready."

"Ha! Like I have a choice."

House smiled sweetly and said, "You'll do fine. Women have been having babies for thousands of years."

"Maybe, but it's the first time for me."

Just then, Debra stuck her head in the door and asked if she was interrupting anything.

"Yes…and you didn't add your name in the pool!"

Cameron rolled her eyes and Debra then smiled.

"You guys want dinner tonight? Jim's been kind of down and I was hoping it might cheer him up."

"You sure he's up for it?" Cameron asked.

"He sure won't kick you out…maybe Greg but not you," Debra answered with a smile.

"Fine – what time?" House asked.

"Seven o'clock sounds good."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wow, girl, you make the _best_ lasagna," House complimented Debra as they were sitting at the dining room table.

"Thanks, that's the only way I can get you to stay."

"Yeah, Debra, it's great!" Cameron agreed, cutting another big square for herself, her second helping, even though everyone else was still on their first.

Debra looked over at Wilson, who was just picking at the meal and putting only a pea-size of it in his mouth.

Since the surgery he hadn't eaten much, but Debra assumed it was the constant pain from the surgery. She tried talking to him about it, but he seemed to shut himself off to her. She was afraid he was keeping something from her and she was going to check with House later that night.

Now eight-month old Gregory was sitting in the high-chair beside his mother, and on the other side sat his Godfather. He was happily munching on cheerios and oatmeal, which were the only things he'd eat his fill worth. He refused to use a spoon for the mush, simply eating it with his fingers.

When they were half-way through the meal, Gregory got the remaining oatmeal in his hand, looked at his Godfather, got the most evil grin on his face and threw it at House, hitting a bull's eye right on his ear.

As he giggled, looking at his Godfather, he said, 'Gegg.'

All eight eyes shot at the baby, and Wilson almost looked hurt, which Debra caught on her husband's face.

"Oh, my god! He just said his first word!" Cameron squealed.

House smiled at the baby, patted his head and said, "Good boy!"

Wilson put his fork on his plate, making a loud clatter that drew everyone's attention away from Gregory on to Wilson.

"Excuse me," he said, stood and charged off for the bathroom, slamming it shut.

Both House and Cameron looked at Debra, shocked at Wilson's reaction. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what's gotten into him. Greg, do you think it could be his medication? Think maybe he needs to either change or up the dose?"

"I don't know."

Debra thought about that, looked at Gregory, then the amount of food House had left, which was almost gone and said, "Allison, would you mind watching Gregory? I need to talk to Greg for a minute."

"Sure, of course! Not a problem," Cameron said, stuffing another forkful into her mouth.

As House stood up, he told her, "Don't eat it all! Leave some for us!"

"Phhhttt," Cameron replied, and right on cue Gregory imitated her.

A few minutes later, as House and Debra stood on the balcony, she asked him, "Greg, I know Jim's had a couple of doctor's appointments, and he just tells me everything is fine; but he doesn't ever sound happy when he says it. So, I called Dr. Samuels, who said he's reacted very well to the surgery, and that there is more than 95 percent likelihood that the cancer is gone. Has he said anything to you?"

House frowned out of concern. "No, nothing. It could be his medication, though. He should definitely get that checked."

Debra nodded her head. "Do you think…he'd…" Debra couldn't say it; she never knew Wilson to be so down that he'd even consider suicide, but now she wasn't so sure. She knew how close he and House were, and her only option left was to ask House. "Do you think he'd ever do something…"

House didn't know what she was getting at, but when he did he was surprised at her. "No, god, no. Not Wilson."

"So, he's never, ever given you any hint that he might do something, you know…" She couldn't say it; she felt like a coward because of it.

"No, he's not the type."

She looked at him funny. "Not the type? What do you mean, 'not the type?'"

House diverted his eyes from her and looked out over the woods that backed the rear of the building, pulled out the bottle of vicodin and popped two. "I just mean…he's never been that unhappy that he'd considering suicide. I know he wouldn't, as a matter of fact."

"You're so sure of that – why?"

"I just am."

Debra stared him down to the point House grew uncomfortable. "So, anyone that's unhappy and/or miserable is suicidal? And someone that is unhappy _won't _do anything?"

"That's _not_ what I said."

"Ha…I'm not sure what I just said myself. He just won't talk to me, that's all."

Debra kept staring at her cousin, trying to figure out what was going through his brain. She thought back on all the 'deep' conversations they'd had, and pieced it together.

"You know he's not suicidal because he's not like _you_." She waited for a response. She got none. "How'd you do it?"

He glared at her as if she was trying to steal his soul, and he would have none of that. "I haven't."

"Yes, you have. That's why you're not concerned about Wilson." He continued to stare at her. "I'm fairly happy, Greg. Not all the time, but generally I am happy, always have been. I think that's why I talk so much…if I keep talking I distract myself back to thinking about 'it.' So, you're telling me that because I'm not like you, I've not tried to kill myself?"

House couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Was it a confession? He didn't really want to know; he'd come to think of Debra as a strong person, not so insecure that she'd try to end it all.

"Well, you're wrong, cousin." Now it was Debra's turn to look out over the woods.

House never took his eyes off of her. And yes, he was shocked at her confession. "How, and why?"

"Sleeping pills, and because I'd been having a lot of nightmares of…and just couldn't handle it anymore."

House tilted his head up. "How old were you?"

"16. You?" She knew she was right, and it didn't matter if he told her or not, she just knew he had.

He hated being trapped, but he knew she had him, and he didn't have the strength to really 'fight' with her on the subject. "12, aspirin-I was a stupid kid." A few moments later he said, "…and 46."

Debra laughed through her nose, but it wasn't really a laugh. It was an understanding, a bond, she realized they shared. And it wasn't a very pleasant bond. "22."

The Debra laughed, laughed loud and hard. But tears built up in her eyes and tried to fight them back. "Well, I guess we know the one thing we suck at, huh?"

House couldn't help but smile. He, too, admired that about her – she could find humor in anything, even doing the one thing – well, almost the one thing – that would really piss God off.

"So, no, I don't think Wilson is suicidal."

She sighed heavily and wiped her cheeks of her tears. "Greg, I think you'd better pack Allison's here-comes-the-baby bag for the hospital."

He frowned, panic set in but quickly dissipated and said, "No, she's got 13 days left!"

"God, I need a cigarette. I'll be right back."

Debra opened the sliding glass door and went into the living room for her purse, where she kept her every-now-and-then pack of cigarettes. She listened for sounds of the baby, and smiled when she heard him clapping his hands and gurgling. Then she heard a chair being pushed back.

"Oh, shit," Cameron said. "Greg! Is that you?!"

"No, it's Debra," she said, heading off to the dining room to see what was wrong.

Debra stopped in mid-step, and said, "Oh, shit" when she saw Cameron holding her stomach and staring down at her feet.

"GREG!!!!!!!!! Get in here, NOW!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Ok, I lied!!!!!! I said she'd have her baby……..but I lied!!! Sorry!!! She's just going into labor….so I guess it'll be the next chapter that she delivers Greg, Jr….or Gregorette, Jr._


	24. Chapter 23

_OKAY! THE BLESSED EVENT HAS ARRIVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IS IT A BOY OR A GIRL??? READ TO FIND OUT:O) thanks for the reviews!!_

**CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE**

"Debra Lynne!! Will you SLOW the hell down!" House screamed at Debra because she was driving them to PPTH, while House and Cameron were in the back seat. It's not that she was driving hazardously, but she was driving fast.

"Hey! Do you want the baby in the back seat of my car or do you want it at the hospital?" Debra shot back.

"Ohhhh, here comes another one!!" Cameron cried out, holding her stomach and straightening her legs, panting heavily.

"Debra, hurry up!" House screamed in total contradiction to what he'd said just a few seconds earlier.

TIME: 8:45 p.m.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

12:07 p.m. the next day…

"Okay, Allison, push!" Dr. Crooks ordered, amongst her cries of refusals.

"I can't…I can't…I'm too tired…can't do this…I'm scared…" she cried, closing her eyes to stop the flood of tears, but it didn't work. All the pain and stress and fatigue from the last two hours in heavy labor settled within her and she couldn't get rid of the tears. She just wanted everything to be over with.

Dr. Allison Cameron had been in labor for 16 hours, and she was ready to have House yank out the baby with his bare hands. Ok, she didn't, but he offered. House had been by her side most of the time but took hour breaks here or there for naps in his office. When he was gone, Debra stayed with her. Wilson brought in Gregory and put him in the daycare while he made himself available for Foreman and Chase while they did clinic hours to keep them busy.

"Allie…you don't have any other choice." House tried his best to comfort her, but as usual, it didn't quite work. "Push…push…push…"

"Oh, shut UP! You're not helping!" she hollered, with the same words coming from Dr. Crooks. She didn't mind it if Dr. Crooks told her to push, but every five minutes for the past two hours House would just have to ask, "Is it time to push yet?" Cameron hit him after the third time he asked, what seemed like eons ago.

House rested his left hand over Cameron's forehead and held her right hand with his own, lovingly brushing away the sweat-and-tears soaked hair that dangled down over her eyes.

"Allison, you can do this! We haven't come this far just to have you cop out. Just a couple more pushes and it'll be over…"

"Shut UP and give me one of your vicodin!" she screamed at him, lifting her head and giving him the glare of death, as if she were a banshee she-devil ordering her servants around.

House couldn't help but smile. "Hun, after this is over you can have as many of my vicodin as you want." That didn't comfort Cameron; she burst out in more tears.

Cameron had asked Debra to stay in the room while she delivered, not so much to support her but to be there to calm House down if he got too annoying. They hadn't needed her; House was there for Cameron the whole time, except for when he caught some sleep. The sweeter House got, though, the crumpier Cameron got. Debra would always smile and shake her head. She knew Cameron would get through the delivery, and she knew House would be there for her, too, no matter how exhausted he was.

She slowly approached Cameron and House, keeping her eye on her cousin the whole time; she felt he needed a little more comforting than Cameron did – for some strange reason. When she got to the side of the bed she took and held Cameron's left hand.

With her voice as reassuring and soft as she could make it she said, "Allison, trust me – just a few more pushes and you'll have your baby. I know it sucks and I know it hurts and I know it feels like you're passing a 14-pound bowling ball and you just want to sleep but you're so close now, girl. Just take deep breaths…"

"Allie, I need you to push NOW!"

House had grown desperate; he knew if the baby didn't start to crown that there might be added complications. He took Cameron's head, lifted her by the shoulders in a semi-seated position and said, "All right! Enough of this crap! We've been nice, Allison! Suck it up, get your ass in gear and GIVE ME MY BABY!" 

At the tone of his voice, she immediately stopped crying, like a one-year child that was shocked at his father for speaking to him in such a gruff manner. She nodded her head repeatedly, held her breath and pushed down.

After several moments of Cameron's screams, the doctor said the head was just beginning to show and for her to keep on pushing. Then he changed his tune quickly the more the head came. "Whoah! Hold it!" the doctor cried out. "Relax."

"Wha…why?! You just told me to…"

House looked down to see what the problem was and had to use every bit of control he could muster not to show any type of reaction at what he saw. The doctor nodded at House, who leaned back up and was met with pleas from Cameron asking what was wrong.

"Nothing…the cord is wrapped around the baby's neck…he's work…"

"No…no…oh, god…"

"Allison, it's fine…it happens all the time," Debra tried to reassure her.

"Okay, okay. That was easy. Now, one last push from you, Allison, and you're a Mommy!"

"Come on, Allie…just one more…we're almost there!" House said lovingly as he kissed her on the cheek before he pushed her up.

She held her breath and gave one long, hard push until the doctor told her to relax a second. She grew concerned again until she felt a tug then heard suction.

"Is it…out?" she asked anxiously.

"Yep…I've got the head…just clearing out the nose and mouth!" After a moment he said, "Okay, give me one more push and we'll find out if it's a girl or a boy."

Debra stepped back and let the soon-to-be-parents alone for their moment together and left to find Wilson.

"It's a boy!" House said proudly even before Cameron pushed.

"What? He's out?"

"Dr. House, that was mean! No, Allison, just give me that push."

She held her breath again, her face flushed and damp with sweat, and pushed down hard; she buried her face in House's neck and held on to him as she pushed. Suddenly she felt a harder tug that emanated from her back to her stomach then heard a gush of water hit the linoleum floor and she threw her head hard on the pillow.

And then the sound she'd waited eight months and two weeks for…the cry of her baby.

The nurses attended to the baby at Cameron's stirupped feet and House watched the entire time as they roughly dried the baby off and presented it to her, setting the still crying baby on her stomach.

"Oh, there you are! I was tired of you kicking me!" Cameron said, touching the baby's fingers and toes and looked at it with amazement.

"Where is it?" House asked.

Cameron looked up at him funny, tears still rolling down her face from happiness. "What do mean, 'where is it?' Ten fingers, ten toes! That's enough…"

"No…no, where is his penis?"

"House! God! _She_ doesn't have one!"

"Okay, Dr. House, are you ready to cut the umbilical cord?" Dr. Crooks asked; a smile behind his mask as he watched the two. Dr. Crooks didn't have a problem with House, he and Cameron were his patients, not his colleague. Crooks could live with that.

"Oh, well, it's okay," House said playfully as he looked at Cameron and without hesitation kissed her long and hard, then buried his face in her neck, whispering, "Good job, baby." Cameron swore she heard his voice crack, and she was dying to see his face.

"Ok, now cut the cord so I can get some sleep, Greg," she said with a laugh.

House leaned back up and looked at the doctor then at the scissors he held in his hand then the baby. There was a clamp holding the cord about five inches from its stomach. Cameron looked over his face thoroughly, and noticed he looked quite pale, but she blamed in on the excitement of the baby.

"House…are you okay?" Cameron asked.

House was standing beside Cameron, scissors in hand, looking at his baby daughter on her Mommy's stomach and his ears started ringing, loudly; he could hear the blood course through his veins in his ears and it caused all other sound in the room to be completely silenced. He looked at Cameron and she said something, but he couldn't hear what it was. He looked back at the baby and brought the scissors closer to the cord; his heart pounding, his throat and mouth suddenly incredibly dry, having difficulty focusing on the exact location of the cord to cut.

"Dr. House, are you…"

That was all Dr. Crooks could ask before House hazily looked up at the doctor, he eyes rolled in the back of his head and he keeled over on his back, passed out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Debra and Wilson had been laying spoon-position on the couch in his office waiting for news of the baby. She hadn't fallen asleep, though. She was waiting for him to say something, anything, as to why he'd been reacting the way he was.

She twisted herself around a little to get a look into his face. "Jim, you okay?"

He hesitated a moment before he said, "I will be."

"That isn't very reassuring." She sat up and looked at him. "Are you in that much pain?" She swallowed hard before she asked the next question. "Has the cancer come back?"

"Uh? No, no. It's just…"

A tear came to her eye but she didn't care. She wanted to know what was going on.

"I heard from my brother."

"Oh – is something wrong with him?"

"Actually, yes."


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY – FOUR**

_Oh, god…my head hurts…owww, what happened…I know I wasn't drinking…okay, I'm on a couch…my couch? Who's couch…wait… Cameron…oh, damnit…_

House tried to sit up, but his head prevented him from doing so. He'd woken up from drinking fits before, but this was the first time he felt this badly. He reached up to feel his head to make sure it was still attached; it was. He moaned softly and tried to force his eyes open.

"House, relax…you're fine."

House recognized the voice and was finally able to open his eyes and looked at Cuddy staring down at him, in her office; he was lying on her couch.

"Cam…where is she…the baby…"

"Cameron was taken to maternity about two hours ago – she's still sleeping – and the baby is fine. She's beautiful, actually," she said with a smile.

Again he tried to sit up and with some effort, made it. "Oh, god," he moaned, holding his head in his hand. "I can't believe I passed out."

"Yeah, you did. You've made it in the PPTH afternoon edition," she teased.

"I have to see her."

"Sure, I'll take you."

Cuddy helped him off the couch, first letting the wave of dizziness pass, handed him his cane and they walked to the maternity ward. They came across the ward with the infants before they made it to Cameron's room, and House wanted to go in to see his little girl; Cuddy waited outside and watched him.

She was the third baby in the left row, and it seemed he went directly to her, as if he knew which one was her just by instinct. When he saw his sleeping daughter, tears filled his eyes, but because of the nurses in the room he tried hard to cover it.

The baby girl was 7-lbs, 3-oz and was 17-1/2" long, with dark hair on the crown of her head with a medium shade of blonde at her temples; her face was plump, with a square chin and a somewhat big forehead; her bottom lip was just like her daddy's – protruding a little further than the top. But her hands and feet were small and petite; her nose and eyes, although they were closed, were like her mommy's.

"Ah, poor thing – she looks like me," House said with a little laugh.

He looked up at the closest nurse to him and saw she was smiling at him. He suddenly felt so open, vulnerable, that immediately he closed himself off again, but was too awestruck to allow snarkiness to come. "Has she seen her?"

The nurse shook her head and said, "No, but I think now is a good time to take her." She walked to the basinet and made sure the baby had everything for the short journey to her mother's room. "Just take your time – she's

one of our best babies; she hasn't cried at all, yet."

House turned to look at Cuddy, who watched him with such love it overwhelmed her. He nodded to her, and she knew he wanted her to push the baby for him, knowing how difficult it was to move around.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Debra and Wilson were in the hospital's cafeteria eating a late lunch. After Wilson told her he talked to his brother, she thought the best way for him to get over his funk was for him to talk to her, but she didn't push him. She knew about Caleb but she wasn't aware of another sibling. She waited patiently yet anxiously for him to say something after he took a few bites of his salad.

"No, I have two. You only met Caleb, but we have an older brother." She took a bite of her roast beef and continued to watch him, eager to know the story. "His name is Aaron. I haven't seen him in over nine years, almost ten."

Debra almost choked on her sandwich. "Why? Where is he?" She had to stop herself from asking too many question for fear of interrogating him.

"He, uh, was the bad seed of the family, I guess you could say. He lost his apartment, wife, basically everything when he was busted for drug possession at 32; he spent two years in jail. When he was released he was living on the street; I saw him last on the corner of Smith and 12th Streets. That was the last anyone heard from him."

She sat for a moment, contemplating. "Are you going to meet up with him?"

"I don't know. He said he's cleaned up his act, but…I don't know."

"Do you think he deserves a second chance?"

Wilson nodded his head. "Of course; he's still my brother."

"Well, don't sit on it for too long."

Wilson nodded his head again and took another bite of his salad.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cameron was still asleep when House and Cuddy entered her room. Cuddy pushed the basinet to one side of the bed and left, telling House to page her if he needed her; although House hadn't suffered a concussion when he passed out, she still needed to keep an eye on him just in case.

He quietly pulled out a chair between the bed and the basinet and watched Cameron sleep for a few minutes. His head still hurt but somehow, being in the company of his daughter and Cameron, it didn't seem to be so bad. He didn't understand the emotions that were running through his mind. Having a baby was something he never really wanted, even with Stacy – that's why they never had a child when they were together. He didn't want to take the chance of being like his father and torment his child as his father did to him.

Now that he had a daughter, everything was different; he didn't feel like he thought he would. He wasn't apprehensive or frightened to death or worried the world would come to an end with a baby in his life. Maybe he _had _changed a little; maybe Cameron _had_ changed him a little; maybe he _had_ finally grown up.

He couldn't be sure whether all that was true, but he remembered what he told Debra within the past year: _All we can do is live for today. You don't know what'll happen tomorrow. But don't lose what you have now._

Cameron moaned softly in her sleep and turned her head toward him. He leaned in closer and held her hand.

"Cam…it's me…we're here."

She didn't seem to respond right away, but he could only imagine how tired she was after 16 hours in labor. He waited patiently until she came around more. The baby started to kick her feet and suckle at air, and he figured the one thing that would bring Cameron around would be to have her first child in her arms.

He took a deep breath and held it, reached into the basinet, cupped her head with his right hand and her body with his left. She was so tiny in his huge hands that he was confident he wouldn't drop her, but just her fragility at any minor mishap set his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He managed to bring the baby to Cameron without dropping her, and only when he placed her in Cameron's right arm did he start to breathe again.

"Allison…I've brought you something," he whispered, keeping his left hand on the baby and his right on Cameron's shoulder.

After a brief moment Cameron finally opened her eyes and looked up at House. When the baby moved in her arm she looked down and realized she was there. She looked back up at him and smiled. He leaned in and gave her an affectionate kiss, with her returning it.

"How does it feel to have Anjelina in your arms?" Immediately her smile faded and she fussed at him for naming her that. But when he laughed and squeezed her hand, she knew he was just kidding, but it still was mean. "Actually, what do you think of the name Hilary?"

Cameron crinkled her nose and shook her head. "Amanda."

It was House's turn to shake his head in refusal. "How about Abigail?"

"Oooh, I like that! Perfect." She looked down at the baby again and was overcome with so many emotions she couldn't help but cry.

"Abigail Amanda House – her initials will be AAH!"

"No! We are not…"

House laughed under his breath and buried his face in her neck, making sure not to lie on the baby, and whispered in her ear, "Have I told you how proud I am of you?"

Cameron yawned and said groggily, "No."

"Have I told you how much I appreciate you?"

"No." Cameron really wasn't grasping what he was saying to her; she was listening to his soft, deep, melodic voice that was so reassuring he could lull her to sleep anytime he wanted.

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

She turned her head slightly, smiled sleepily and said, "No. But I love you, too."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Okay, there will be one more chapter, an Epilogue. I know I've left Wilson's brother storyline open, but it will be covered in the last chapter._

_God, I'm going to miss this story:o) _

_Thanks for all the comments and reviews! I wouldn't have kept writing if it weren't for those._


	26. JUST A NOTE

Hi, everyone!

Amongst many cries and a sore arm from twisting it and a bruised eye, I guess I can continue the series.

I just want to stay away from the same ole' from other fics, you know?

But I'm tickled pink everyone likes it, really, I do!! It makes me all ka-flempt! That's my new word for the day!

Ok, my fried brain will have to re-genarize itself – ok, that's spelled wrong but oh, well – so let me get my brain moving!

Hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend!

Steph


End file.
